


At the Stars

by morphaileffect



Category: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 65,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/morphaileffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the Troopers' armor vanished, Seiji contracts a deadly disease. Touma has turned his whole life around to save him, and will stop at nothing to find a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jellybeanfactory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanfactory/gifts).



> This fic is brought to you by four things:
> 
> 1\. the 2006 movie The Fountain, also a gorgeous 2002 graphic novel by Kent Williams
> 
> 2\. the 2010 movie Extraordinary Measures
> 
> 3\. a Better Than Ezra song, you get to guess which
> 
> 4\. my little sister's sick twisted magnificent imagination and her relentless plunnies ♥
> 
> Disclaimers and notes:
> 
> 1\. i don't own YST or any of its characters. i am truly very sad about it.
> 
> 2\. i actually know nothing about medicine or genetics. i just like using big words i can barely understand. so if you happen to be working in the medical industry... please go easy on me?
> 
> 3\. this futurefic desperately pretends Message never happened. instead it acts like the armors went away in a puff of pink glittery smoke after Kikoutei Densetsu.
> 
> 4\. m/m and heavy angst warnings. melodrama abounds.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Spoken in almost a whisper, this phrase sent a tense hush sweeping over the boardroom. Some of the younger people in the room dropped their gazes to the surface of the conference table, or to the backs of their hands.

The white-haired elderly men and women in business suits, no strangers to these occurrences, stared wordlessly at the blue-haired young man in the unpressed shirt and slacks, the frayed old jacket rolled up to his elbows.

"You've got to be kidding me," the young man repeated, more loudly this time. "What do you mean the project's terminated?"

"Hashiba-san." It was someone much older who spoke; a balding man with spectacles and hunched shoulders. But he spoke to the young man with such respect, that he may as well be someone younger and less experienced at apologies. "I've left several messages on your phone, asking to set up a meeting with you. I've wanted - "

The young man called Hashiba slammed his fists onto the tabletop. It made the unaware jump a few inches off their seats. "Akise-san," he said, with as much intimidation as he could gather without resorting to yelling. "You, of all people, should have informed me."

"Hashiba-san, you've been ignoring my calls!" The man frowned, dipped his chin and adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The young man called Hashiba knew him well enough to know this meant he was mustering his courage. "I've  _wanted_  to discuss it with you. Not answering my calls would be  _fine_ under different circumstances... but to be honest, you've left us no other option."

Someone else at the corner of his eye nodded. The young man named Hashiba looked around the room. There were those who refused to look at him and those who refused to look away from him. Sympathy was nowhere among them.

"This isn't fair," Hashiba said, hopefully not as feebly as he feared. "I've been working nonstop. I haven't had time to attend to personal phone calls. I've devoted the last few years of my life to this project as well. And to hear this, so suddenly..." His nails dug into his palms until his knuckles turned white.

"Hashiba-san," the meek man named Akise continued, "your hypotheses have been reviewed again and again by the scientific community. You say you're developing a means to prevent a deadly genetic illness - but again and again, we've been shown proof that such an illness is unlikely to occur."

"Unlikely?!" An angry redness was creeping up the young man's neck from his loosened collar, shading his exposed ears. "You've seen my papers, Akise-san. All of you have. I've proven  _beyond doubt_  that this specific genetic ailment -"

"- is sure to prove fatal to everyone with a specific gene set, given the appropriate environmental factors," someone finished for him. It was one of the white-haired old men. He might have been the CEO of the pharmaceutical company that had employed him - at the moment, the young man named Hashiba could not exactly bring himself to care. "Dr. Hashiba. That's not the point. The 'factors' that you specified  _do not exist_ at present. Nor have our control researchers determined that they are likely to occur in the near future. I mean - let's be frank." The old man spread his hands out wide and cracked a smile - a parody of helplessness. "The amount of emotional, physical, and mental strain a person with gene set 73454 would have to endure in order to contract the genetic ailment you have built your entire project around is - fictional!  _No one_ can go through such strain and live.  _No one_  is alive on this world who can endure such torture, only to suffer and eventually overcome a deadly genetic disease!"

 _You're wrong._ Hashiba clenched his teeth. Steeled himself against the rush of unkind words that threatened to boil over.  _You're wrong. HE is. And he WILL._

"Recently, I reviewed your proposal for this project, Dr. Hashiba," said a woman with a kindly voice, and her hair up in a bun. "I must admit, it was truly impressive. I can see how you were able to sway this board with your bold assertion that such a disease  _can_  exist and that it is  _imperative_  that every aspect of it be analyzed."

"But it's just not practical to continue with this research," another white-haired man mumbled. "It's only a pity we determined this too late. Not after three years of throwing money down the drain."

It occurred to Hashiba that perhaps, a part of him had actually been expecting this. The constant string of failures in his most recent lab experiments might have been some sort of sign. He tried to calm down.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Hashiba began, when he had caught his breath. "I implore you to reconsider. Some of you are scientists as well. I have given you as much hard data as can be gathered, and now I am  _very close_  to finding a cure. I don't believe there can be  _any doubt_  that my research is for a good cause. A  _worthy_  cause. One that, if I may remind the good board, is going to save lives - "

"Hashiba-san." Akise again. Though he was already a bit calmer, Hashiba was still tempted to punch this gentleman's lights out. And he was so close, with those thick spectacles sitting like a mockery on his face - so close. "Due to the budget cuts that this company has been forced to make lately, everyone - not just you - is under pressure to produce output that will address the needs of a broader customer base. In short, we need to focus on developing dugs that actually  _sell._ "

 _Sell_ . Hashiba hated that word. He'd been hearing it since he came to this company three years ago, and he quickly learned that it was a favorite in the painfully small world of pharmaceutical research. It had never been thrown at him so many times in his life.

"This isn't astrophysics, Doctor," someone else in a suit said. The dryness in those words was unmistakable. "It's business."

"It's medicine," Hashiba acidly corrected. "And obviously, it doesn't want me around. Excuse me."

The old men and women, used to such boardroom scenes but not from someone so young, started to mutter among themselves. Some looked at their blue-haired lead researcher openly with disdain.

"Hashiba-san!" Akise jumped to his feet even before he did. They were the only two people in the room standing. "Please don't be so brash! The project may have been cancelled, but you are still under contract with us! Out of respect for you and your obvious talent, we also ask you to consider using the information you've gathered so far in developing - "

"Respect?" His voice was calm, but the way Hashiba looked at Akise made the older man cringe. " _Respect?_  I signed up for this position because I was promised financial backing. Now you're telling me to abandon my work for your convenience? You  _knew_  my work was theoretical. You knew there would be no immediate market returns..."

"Yes," Akise sighed. "Unfortunately, Dr. Hashiba, your contract also states that you are obliged to work on projects that are  _profitable_  to our company, in addition to your personal research. This was fine for all of us while you were amiable to working on Almigen and Salyntec, but you've been slacking off on your work with those two product lines."

"I was never 'amiable' to working on anything besides my own personal project," Hashiba replied matter-of-factly. "I don't have time for other work, and I don't have time for this."

The blue-haired young man in the rumpled-up shirt and dirty jacket headed for the door. His long strides ensured that there was not much time for anyone to stop him. "Hashiba-san!" Akise cried. He was not heeded.

"It's also stated in your contract," Akise said quickly, "that should you violate the terms of your employment in ANY WAY, we are no longer obliged to assist your research."

This seemed to work. Hashiba stopped walking, hand on the door frame of the conference room. But he did not turn.

After a pause, Akise continued, "All your research data will remain property of this company. All your hard work for three years, Doctor. You can't take it anywhere else, and this isn't stated in your contract explicitly, but be assured - you won't find any other pharmaceutical company in the world willing to adopt you  _or_  your project so easily after you leave." After a pause, "And of course, we will be forced to conduct an investigation into your recent extra-official activities. If we find anything amiss, you may be held criminally liable."

This was a threat. The silence that followed confirmed it.

"Think about it, Hashiba-san..."

But for the young lead researcher who had been shamed and robbed of all he had come to this company for, there was nothing to think about. There nowhere else to go except out.

 

  
He wondered why he had even bothered to get up today. If his head had been clearer, he could have typed up a resignation letter, emailed it to all the executives involved, and saved everyone the trouble.

If his head had been clearer.

He could have foreseen this. Already he was thinking of ways to cushion the impact of the termination on his research timeline and his personal finances, but - he could have known. He could have been more aware of what was going on. Then he could have planned for this occurrence much, much earlier.

As hard as he tried, all his thinking could not distract him from how disappointed he was in himself.

Perhaps Seiji was right - perhaps he had been working too hard. Perhaps he needed the break. Perhaps this was for the best.

He stopped walking. And without thinking if anyone was around to see, he leaned his shoulder against the nearest wall.

It was another busy night in Tokyo. All around him, people were heading off to or away from work. Most of them ignored him, though some must have certainly stared - a healthy twenty-something like himself shouldn't be looking like this.

The words that had been spoken to him in the boardroom earlier that day echoed in his memory. The suitcase in his hand, filled to bursting with three years' worth of notes and overtime hours, suddenly felt very heavy, and he had to drop it or drop along with it. It fell at his feet.

 

"Seiji," he said at the doorway.  _"Tadaima."_

He hoped there had been no unusual heaviness in his voice. He was not ready to discuss what happened today. Tomorrow, maybe, when he'd gotten some rest...

He locked the door and took off his jacket and shoes. He carried the suitcase as far as the couch, then left it there, prepared to abandon it all night.

Slowly, quietly, in case the person he had called out to was in fact sleeping, he made his way to the larger of the two bedrooms in the apartment.

There were two beds there. A young man was sitting up in the one nearest the window. His lower half was covered in blankets, and a short-sleeved overcoat hung loosely about his shoulders.

The young man had been looking out the window. When the newcomer approached, he turned to the doorway and smiled.

"Touma." His voice was soft.  _"Okaeri."_

The newcomer at the doorway could see his smile clearly in the dim light from the city and the night sky. There was always something ethereal about Seiji, from as far back as Touma could remember. From even before the illness. Not even total darkness could completely consume him.

The slim  _jinbei_  that Seiji wore was too large for him. But for someone who knew him well, it would be easy to remember how it fit him, once. 

"Seiji, it's too dark in here." He was trying his best to sound comfortably annoyed. Touma picked up a clipboard hanging from the foot of Seiji's bed. "You could've left the lamp on. It won't make a dent on the electric bill." He sat on the empty bed beside the one Seiji occupied, and reached out for the lamp on the nightstand. At his touch, the light jumped to life.

Seiji squinted. He had started to raise his stick-thin arm to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness, but his arm was too weak to manage it in time.

"I wanted to see the stars," he simply said. He did not have the strength to speak above a whisper; he had been like this for a while. "How was your day?"

Stock greetings, stock replies. "So-so. The usual." But Touma couldn't restrain a sigh. Letting air into his lungs made the ruse a lot easier. "Let's see how  _you_  did today, shall we?"

There were charts on the clipboard that he held. Touma looked through each one carefully, making small neutral "Hm" sounds from time to time. Seiji watched him without much interest.

The charts - made and printed out by Touma himself - were filled up by the day nurse. This fortnight, her name was Masumi. She was meticulous, which was good, and Touma felt a small jab in his chest as he remembered that he might not be able to afford to retain her - or any day nurse - for a while.

It didn't matter, he told himself. He would be around to fill up the charts himself, which was even better.

On one of the charts, Masumi had written "vomited - clear, with partially undigested food - 11 minutes." Beside her bold handwriting, a shaky hand had lightly scribbled "Lies. More like 12."

A chuckle escaped Touma.

This was not the first time Seiji had messed with his charts. Most of the time, he did it for fun. It wasn't as if Seiji was an invalid or illiterate.

And it wasn't as if there was any need to hide the charts from him - he made it clear long ago that he appreciated not being kept in the dark.

"Was it  _that_  funny?" Seiji asked. Touma looked up to see a touch of concern in his friend's half-smile. Touma shook his head and called him stupid. Then he remembered he had only ever snarked at Seiji for these comments. He had never simply laughed.

The rest of what Masumi wrote was standard, which was what Touma found alarming. If Seiji had been responding positively to treatment, some of these symptoms should've disappeared by now.

"Woke up with trouble breathing, 9:15 AM, again at 1:20 PM - muscle weakness - 90/50 BP - loss of sensation - stomach upset - attempt to eat solid foods at 2:35 PM induced vomiting - "

Nothing. No progress. These were almost exactly the same symptoms Seiji had two weeks ago.

Did that mean the medicine wasn't working? Or that he had to increase the dosage? The experimental regimen he had put Seiji on was going to end soon. It was perhaps a good sign that meant Seiji was not getting any worse... but it might also be a sign that the formulation was all wrong.

He heard Seiji call his name. Touma looked up and out of his thoughts.

Seiji's pale violet eyes were locked on his.

"What's wrong?" Seiji asked him. "I know nothing's new with me, so... "

Touma was about to answer. But he found that with Seiji looking into him that intently, it was much, much harder to lie.

He dropped his gaze and reached out. The back of his right forefinger slid gently from Seiji's cheekbone to his chin.

Seiji's long white fingers reached up to touch his. His touch was so light, Touma could barely feel it. He still didn't meet Seiji's eyes when he leaned forward and touched their lips together.

Seiji's lips were bitter and dry. Touma ran his tongue over them once, twice, before he kissed him again. It was a futile gesture, he knew, as those lips would be dry again soon.

"Everything will be fine," Touma tried to say with conviction. "All right?"

In answer, Seiji held both arms out and drew him closer.

Touma, pulled off his seat, knelt by Seiji's bed. He had to arch his back up, and Seiji had to lean down so their shoulders, at least, could touch. He wrapped his arms around Seiji as lightly as he could, knowing down to the smallest detail how delicate his friend had become over time.

Seiji's fingers started brushing his hair. Very slowly, as if every movement was a struggle. Touma closed his eyes.

No one _can go through such strain and live._ No one _is alive on this world who can endure such torture..._

"Everything will be fine," Touma repeated. Holding on to Seiji a little more tightly was all he could do to stop himself from getting carried away in a sudden wave of anger and grief. This isn't fair.


	2. Chapter 2

The call was placed on his landline. It was a good thing he was home. He had just come home for a break, after a photoshoot in Timor.   
  
He was separating prints in the basement of his log cabin in Yamanashi when the call came through. The answering machine had picked it up first. He had made sure that the speakerphone would be loud enough to get through to him, so he heard, very clearly:   
  
_"Ryo? ...I guess you're out of the country again. As soon as you come back, please get in touch with me. There's something I need your help with and..."_   
  
Ryo almost tripped running up the basement stairs.   
  
"Touma!" he screamed into the receiver. "It's been a while! How are you?"   
  
_"Ryo...?"_  The voice hesitated. Ryo did not like that. He had expected a glad friendly yell of "Hey, you're home!" as a response, not this.  _"I'm all right. I need to speak with you in person."_   
  
"Sure, what's up?" Touma even sounded serious. No lame joke, no lame attempt at small talk. It wasn't like him.   
  
_"I'll be in Shinjuku this Saturday. Shuu and Shin haven't returned my calls, so I'm not sure they can make it. What about you?"_   
  
"I'll be there. And Seiji...?"   
  
There was a pause at the other end of the line.    
  
_"11 AM at Miyanokouji Bar. Thanks, Ryo."_   
  
The call was dropped before Ryo could say anything more.   
  
For a moment, Ryo stood wondering if he should call back. The familiar number of Touma's apartment in Tokyo was reflected on the caller ID.   
  
But he figured he would get the details on Saturday anyway. He wasn't going to ferret out information that wasn't ready to be given.   
  
  
  
  
  
Since their armors vanished, and they were free to live their lives the way they wished, it became harder to keep in touch. In a way, Ryo supposed, they had wanted to distance themselves from their past, and not making a serious effort to meet up so they could reopen old wounds, share their war stories was part of that.   
  
They were still good friends, of course. Good friends who sometimes met up, wrote or called - or, in Ryo's case, sent postcards. He was always somewhere, and there was always something beautiful to snap a photograph of, and send to everyone with a rushed scribble at the back: "From the Amazon. Hope you're well. Ryo."   
  
He was never very good with words. He hoped his photographs, at least, would tell his friends he was doing okay for himself.   
  
Seiji, who  _was_  good with words, was always somewhere as well. Or, at least, that was what he was told. Touma had told them all during the last reunion, two years ago, that Seiji often traveled for research on his Sengoku-era novels. That was why he had not made their reunions for the last few years.   
  
(Ryo had honestly never known how much legwork was involved in being a world-famous author. Not being a big reader himself, when one said "author" he instantly had a vision of a half-blind eccentric, shoulders hunched with age and lack of social skills, bent over his quill and paper or typewriter or whatever. Someone as good-looking and pleasant and  _young_  as Date Seiji definitely did not fit his idea of an "author."   
  
(And yet, Seiji's Sengoku-era fiction was being translated into five major languages, and exported all over the world. Touma assured them that he made a good living off the royalties, and sometimes traveled just for fun.   
  
Ryo was proud of his friend, that was for sure... though he did wish Seiji could take time out to show himself.)   
  
Since their armors went away, it became harder to read each other's feelings. He wouldn't be able to tell if Seiji needed any kind of help, though of course he was concerned.   
  
There was one thing he was sure of, however, with the help of his armor or no: something was bothering Touma. And whatever it was, it had been around for some time.   
  
Ryo wasn't the only one who noticed it. Shin and Shuu had both commented at least once about how Touma always left early during their reunions, and how he would consciously avoid meeting up with any of them unless he absolutely  _had_  to. And even then, he would leave early, as if there were things he was carefully trying not to be present to discuss.    
  
It was as if Touma was forcing them into the status of mere acquaintances. It was hard not to worry.   
  
What could be wrong? Was Touma in some sort of trouble? Did he need money? A place to stay? Someone to talk to?   
  
  
  
  
Miyanokouji was quiet. At that time of day, Ryo and Touma were the only patrons - and it seemed Touma preferred it that way. The only other soul, the waiter/bartender, was often distanced, as if used to people using his establishment for shady business it would be better for him not to know about.   
  
That, and/or Touma had bribed him to stay away from their table.   
  
Ryo always felt uncomfortable whenever he knew Touma did that, but he'd learned to stop complaining. Miyanokouji was where they met if they wanted to discuss something private. It was public enough to defy suspicion, but discreet enough to keep their conversations secret.   
  
It was the perfect place to discuss their past as warriors, for example, if no one's apartment was available. But if Touma felt that precautions needed to be taken, Ryo knew he should take his word for it.   
  
He'd hoped Shin and Shuu could make it, but the two were out of town; Shuu on business, and Shin on research. Shin's nature conservation group was going to come out with an anniversary issue that required him to travel, and Shuu had to attend to his family's restaurant's exhibit at a food expo in Chiba. They both promised to get in touch as soon as they could, however.   
  
In the meantime, Ryo welcomed the chance to talk to Touma alone.   
  
This was a different Touma from the one he had hoped to meet. He'd hoped it was all in his head, the weariness that Touma wore around himself like a shroud... but this Touma looked much older, much thinner, with his strangely blue hair grown longer all around, his cheekbones stark and his downturned eyes sunken, sleepless.   
  
In fact, Touma's eyes were the only thing about him that did not radiate exhaustion. But they did not meet Ryo's gaze head-on, like they used to. Like they would if nothing was wrong.   
  
"Ryo," he began slowly, "did you ever feel like the way we look at things has become more complicated since we lost our armor?"   
  
"Complicated?"   
  
"Like..." Touma thought about his words for a bit. "It was much easier to make decisions when we still had our virtues. I'd come to a crossroads, then - just like that, I knew what I had to do. Now..."   
  
A heavy silence lay between them. Ryo hated it. he needed to say something, even something stupid, to make it go away.   
  
"To tell you the truth, man, even when we had our virtues, I never really felt benevolent. I just sort of  _did_  stuff and people told me later it was the benevolent thing to do."   
  
That seemed to work. Touma chuckled emptily. "Same here about being wise, I guess..."   
  
There was little room for small talk. Touma made it clear that he would not have contacted any of them if he felt he had other options.   
  
"Basically," Touma said, running one hand through his hair, "I've been blackballed out of the medical industry."   
  
Ryo's eyes widened. Was he hearing this right?   
  
"What?? You?! Why would that happen?"   
  
"Let's just say... I've been less than ethical." And the way he said it made Ryo think that "less than ethical" was actually a mild way of putting it.   
  
His fears were proven right when Touma started to explain: he'd been shirking his duties at the pharmaceutical company he was employed in, deliberately delaying his output so that the officials of the company would give him more time to research.    
  
Of course this meant the pharmaceutical company would investigate. And when they did, they discovered that Touma had been conducting independent lab work at a nearby university after (and sometimes during) office hours, using the data that he had gathered for the research they were paying for. He was not giving them the results they wanted,  _and_  he was using his research for personal purposes - the nature of which he would not voluntarily disclose.   
  
Needless to say, said company was not pleased.   
  
"I've become an outcast among my colleagues." Touma relayed all this in a neutral voice. He might as well have been reading out of a diary page he'd rehearsed reading aloud countless times. "I can't say it wasn't my fault. People were already wary of me getting a medical degree all of a sudden, after being this big-shot astrophysicist..." He rolled his eyes as he said "big-shot." Ryo knew well enough how uncomfortable it was for Touma to have been a celebrity whiz kid. "Now that I've been fired, certain people are saying they were right to doubt me all along. If you'll keep your ear on the grapevine, you might catch some pretty shocking lies about me."   
  
"What kind of lies?" Ryo asked quickly.   
  
Touma shrugged. "Things like I stole and sold confidential records. Falsified test results. Slept with all of the CEOs.  _That_  kind of lies."   
  
Hearing this left a bad taste at the back of Ryo's throat. But Touma himself seemed unaffected.   
  
Ryo found it strange that all this was happening. Not so much that Touma was bending rules to get what he wanted done - but that he got  _caught_ . This was definitely not like him.   
  
"So now I'm in a bit of a bind. My old employer won't press charges, but I still can't get a job in places with decent laboratories. I don't want to trouble my parents... they've been put through enough, with my leaving my old job in Kyoto. My dad..." He let out a small sigh. "Let's just say, he was disappoint."   
  
Ryo grimaced. Touma's sense of humor and its inappropriate entrances...   
  
"Touma..." Ryo leaned forward in his seat, lowered his voice a bit. "You never really answered us when we asked. Why did you have to leave astrophysics for medicine? You know, I don't think I understand everything right now, but..." Ryo's brow furrowed. "Somehow I feel like none of this would've happened if you'd stuck with your old job."   
  
His friend smiled bitterly. The ever-astute Ryo had hit upon a sad fact, and he wasn't about to hide it.   
  
"I'm serious. Can't you just go back to looking through a telescope instead of a microscope? You're better at it, anyway. I'm sure your old employer would -"    
  
Touma shook his head. "It has to be medicine, Ryo."   
  
"Why? What's worth staying for?"   
  
Touma's face suddenly lost all expression. He looked out the nearest window and there was another eerie silence. It made Ryo want to keep talking. He felt these pauses eating away at the few small things he and his old friend had in common.   
  
But before he could open his mouth to speak, Touma said one word: "Seiji."   
  
Ryo looked up to see Touma meeting his gaze again, finally. "Do you remember the last time you saw him?" Touma asked.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ryo barely remembered, in fact. It must have been five years ago. Since then there had only been phone calls and letters that became less and less frequent.   
  
Then, absolutely nothing.   
  
What Ryo remembered from five years ago was his friend Date Seiji looking as he always did: cool, calm, steady as sunlight on still water. He was 20 and he'd just published his first short story. Also he was in college and busy fending off girls as usual, though he was too polite to say it outright. He was in good health, thank you for asking, and how was Ryo's father? Still off to parts unknown?   
  
He remembered the unyielding strength of Seiji's grip when they clasped hands to say goodbye. The warmth of Seiji's half-smile.   
  
Fast forward to five years later: Ryo was sitting at a bar in the middle of the day, with a haggard old friend who was telling him Seiji was ill. And not simply ill, but ill from a mysterious disease that modern medicine could not even explain, much less have a cure for.   
  
Touma had spent the last five years thinking about it, reading up on it... and he came to believe it was related to the disappearance of the armor. However, Seiji was the only one of the five armor bearers who ended up saddled with the disease.   
  
That, he declared, was because he was the only one prone to it.   
  
There was something in Seiji's genes that made him vulnerable; losing Kourin just made it worse. Because the armor was the only thing that had been keeping him from suffering from it.   
  
Ironically, it was also the thing that had triggered it in the first place.   
  
Fast forward again to twenty minutes later: the two young men had left Miyanokouji Bar and were walking down to the bus stop. Touma was still talking about grave things in that strangely dispassionate voice:   
  
They all knew Seiji was a sickly child. But he was not the only one in his family who was like that. It was a genetic weakness that took the form of a common childhood infirmity. Seiji had older relatives and ancestors who were sickly as children - but they survived it. Touma supposed that they never even  _had_  the disease that Seiji was suffering currently.   
  
And why was this? It was because they never bore the armor of Kourin.   
  
"Seiji was tortured," Touma said quietly. "Do you remember?"   
  
"We were all put through hell, Touma," Ryo argued. People passed them by without a second glance.   
  
"No. Not like Seiji. There was that time in New York," he started to say. He paused when a couple walked between them arm in arm, separating him from Ryo for a second. When the coast was clear, he continued, "In New York, he was held underground for days. Hooked up to wires, pain shot through his nerves and directly into his brain. He had to retreat to the back of his mind to escape it..."   
  
Ryo only noticed that Touma's left hand had balled into a fist when it unclenched. Even when it did, Touma's fingers shook from the effort of relaxing.   
  
"Still," Touma went on, his voice level, "that might not have been the cause. You see, the disease I'm talking about can't be easily triggered. It can only be brought about by sustained trauma - being pushed to your physical, mental and emotional limits for an extended period of time. Say, the time when we fought as Troopers. That was just about enough."   
  
The bus came. They boarded. Touma slumped against the backrest with his arms folded across his chest. After a long pause, perhaps to collect himself, Touma continued to speak about the disease - which had no name as of yet but had been given a complicated code number that Ryo couldn't trust himself to remember.   
  
Being the bearer of Kourin had exposed Seiji to more stress than the ordinary human body could handle, Touma said. And the supernatural armor's protection could only go so far. When it vanished, after it determined that there was no longer any need for it, it stopped keeping Seiji safe from the sickness that he'd had since the beginning.   
  
Ultimately, it failed to protect him from the inevitable.   
  
Their armor had kept them all alive at the end of the war with the Netherworld. But Seiji's had left him broken.   
  
"That's not possible," Ryo declared. He couldn't raise his voice inside the bus, and he couldn't wait until they were back out in open air. "Our armor healed us! When we were wounded, it patched us up. When we were in trouble, it saved us. Kourin wasn't any different!"   
  
"Yes," Touma said patiently, "but if Seiji'd had that condition even  _before_  Kourin, it's not likely that Kourin would even recognize it as a disease. You must understand, Ryo: our armor knew how to  _preserve_ us, not to fix us. And now they're gone."   
  
This was getting a bit too much to hear. Ryo couldn't take it all in without a fight.   
  
"He was fine!" he said in an angry whisper. "The last time I saw him, he was fine. He didn't feel anything bad. Otherwise he would have said...!"   
  
Touma said nothing. He was looking out the window, at old familiar streets.   
  
Ryo waited for Touma to start talking again. But they reached their destination shortly, and after that it seemed there was no time for further explanation. They needed to walk to Touma's apartment building from the stop. They needed to wait for the elevator. Then they needed to make their way to Touma's room... all in absolute silence.   
  
Little did Ryo know that the silence was intended to prepare him.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Ryo noticed upon entering the apartment was the smell. There was a faint chemical smell, like what you commonly find in hospital waiting rooms - antiseptic and cold.   
  
The next thing he noticed was that the apartment was HUGE. As far as Ryo knew, Touma had never brought any of them to that apartment before.   
  
Ryo whistled. The living room was spacious, bright, and the furnishings were an interesting mix of modern and traditional. There were still  _shoji_  serving as room dividers, Ryo noted, and handmade pillows were thrown over the minimalistic modern couches. A large window afforded the tenants a good view of the Tokyo cityscape.    
  
At least three people could live here. Ryo told himself it was probably exactly the kind of apartment that someone employed as a lead researcher at a multinational drug company would be able to afford. And yet, it surprised him that the normally frugal and not-materialistic-in-the-least Hashiba Touma would go for luxurious living.   
  
There was a balcony. And there was a greenhouse at the balcony: a small glass-enclosed garden, partly visible from the entrance to the apartment. That was strange. Touma was never one to keep plants.   
  
But it did not escape Ryo that there were extra pairs of shoes on the low shelf by the doorway. Men's shoes. Touma had a roommate or two, perhaps?   
  
Ryo made an offhand comment about how great the place was. Touma didn't acknowledge it. Instead he took off his shoes and noiselessly made his way across the living room.    
  
He came to a door, then glanced back over at Ryo as if signalling him to follow. Touma seemed tense, his shoulders were hunched and he moved rather stiffly.   
  
Ryo left his shoes beside Touma's and did as he was expected.    
  
When he was by Touma's side, Touma slowly opened the door.  _"Tadaima,"_  he said distantly, as if to no one in particular.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ryo froze at the doorway.   
  
For a very long second, he didn't know what he was looking at.   
  
He didn't know how he was expected to react.   
  
How should a person react if he was looking at a person about his age lying helplessly in bed, whittled down to little more than hair and bones and skin? A person who looked like a best friend he hadn't seen in years?   
  
He told himself the man on the bed wasn't Seiji.   
  
It was one of Touma's elaborate pranks. It had to be.   
  
The real Seiji was going to walk through the door at any second, healthy as anything, with an easygoing grin on his face. He was going to laughingly apologize for the mess Touma had made of this moment, when they would finally see each other again.   
  
Then the man on the bed opened his eyes. They were an unmistakable pale shade of violet, there was nothing else like that color.   
  
Instantly Ryo was seized with the desire to either run further into the room, or else get the hell out of there. But Touma was blocking the way out, and that wasn't where his feet were taking him anyway. He stepped forward, a name caught in his throat.   
  
The eyes of the man on the bed turned wide. He struggled to raise himself up to a sitting position.   
  
"Seiji." Touma's voice, quiet but alarmed. Touma strode past Ryo into the bedroom, noticeably avoiding the chance of touching any part of him.   
  
"Ryo," Seiji said, and it was almost a question. Touma slid one arm under his shoulders and helped him upright.   
  
Touma was not meeting Seiji's gaze. "I called him," he confessed.   
  
Ryo stepped forward again, and for lack of anywhere else to position himself, he knelt beside the bed. Seiji seemed to shrink from him, even as he tried to get off the bed himself. His thin chest started to heave.   
  
"You came to this decision all by yourself," Seiji challenged the person who was helping him up. "All of a sudden?" His voice was barely a whisper, and even that seemed like it took a great deal of energy.   
  
Touma took a deep breath before answering, in a less than confident tone, "You would've said no."   
  
An angry look fell on those violet eyes. Seiji's hand rose to his chest. The blue veins beneath the pale skin of his arm stood out starkly. "You should've asked - " he labored to say between breaths, " - asked me - "   
  
Ryo reached out, wanting to simply take Seiji's hand. But just as he did, as it had been many times in the past, he realized his body wanted to do something else, and there was no way of stopping it. He rose to his feet and trapped Seiji in a tight embrace.   
  
He didn't really care if his friend was already having trouble breathing. He didn't care. He wasn't letting go, not after so long.   
  
He felt Touma moving away from the two of them, giving them space. And he felt Seiji's breathing even out, felt Seiji's heart thumping against his own chest.   
  
"Ryo..." He felt Seiji shiver, too weak and overwhelmed to return the embrace or to push him away. "...Not like this."   
  
"What happened?" Ryo asked him softly, barely able to hear the trembling in his own voice. "How long has it been like this?"   
  
There was no answer. Ryo reluctantly pulled away. He realized both Seiji and Touma were looking at him. And upon looking back at Touma, a sick feeling erupted somewhere inside him, and he realized he wanted to shout.   
  
_"How long?!"_   
  
Touma flinched as if pushed back, but he held Ryo's gaze.   
  
Ryo knew he shouldn't be feeling as angry as he did, but he couldn't see why. It was difficult to see past red. It was difficult to pretend he wasn't being consumed from the inside out.   
  
"I can explain," Touma assured him. "But first, calm down."   
  
"Outside," Ryo commanded. The way he said it made both Seiji and Touma turn rigid, and he was quite sure at the back of his head that he didn't mean it to sound like that. He didn't mean to sound cross - he just wanted to know.   
  
Touma took on a resigned look and nodded. He followed Ryo out of the bedroom.   
  
Ryo was vaguely aware that Seiji was trying to call them both back, or was trying to tell them to wait. He was pushing himself to leave his bed, to reach for an unobtrusive cane that was propped up by the bedstand. He forced words out of his throat, hoping they would be loud enough to convey his sense of urgency.   
  
But by that time, Touma was already standing in the middle of the living room - straight and tall, shoulders pulled back and chin held high. And then Ryo couldn't see anything else.   
  
When Touma faced Ryo again, his sunken blue eyes were steeled with conviction.   
  
The promised explanation started to form on Touma's lips. But it could have come faster.   
  
Ryo's fist connected with Touma's jaw.   
  
Tall as he was, it seemed that Touma's feet weren't as firmly planted on the ground as they should have been. Touma flew backwards against the sparse furnishings that Ryo had admired earlier.   
  
His anger didn't dissipate after that punch. The look on Touma's face after he scrambled to recover only made it worse. Perhaps something in Ryo had been hoping the reaction would be pure shock or fear... not guilt with a touch of indignation.   
  
Before Touma could get back on his feet, Ryo strode up to him and threw another punch. It sent Touma reeling back, destroying even more of his expensive tables and misaligning his couches.   
  
But even as the shot connected, Ryo felt as if Touma had been  _waiting for it_ .   
  
Ryo grabbed a fistful of the front of Touma's shirt and hauled him upwards. Touma groaned at being forcibly moved. He might have cracked a bone, Ryo realized, and might be bleeding somewhere else besides one corner of his mouth. Good.   
  
"You hid this from us," Ryo said to him, straight to his face, where there was no escape. "For how long, Touma? What were you thinking?" Another punch was coming. Ryo stopped himself with great effort, and instead redirected his rage into an iron grip on Touma's arm. Touma winced, but made no attempt to escape.  _"What were you thinking?"_   
  
"Ryo..."   
  
The call came from nearby. The look in Touma's eyes quickly shifted from defiance to concern. He looked over Ryo's shoulder. Then Ryo had to do the same.   
  
Seiji had gotten out of bed. He was leaning against the frame of the door to his room, trying to keep his gaze steady on Ryo while struggling to breathe evenly. Thin strands of blond hair fell over one eye, and that did little to diminish the intensity of his glare.   
  
"Ryo." There was no enmity in his voice, in contrast to what his drawn face showed. There was only pleading. "Stop."   
  
Ryo let go of the front of Touma's shirt, but with a cautiousness he did not intend. He pulled Touma up, making sure he could get back on his feet, before letting go completely and backing off a few paces.   
  
Touma staggered. He didn't try to distance himself from Ryo. He didn't try to return the punches either, even if he must have wanted to. He didn't try to do anything at all.   
  
Perhaps because Seiji was there.   
  
"Ryo," Touma began again, in spite of a split lip and aching ribs. "Listen to me..."   
  
But Ryo knew better. Ryo knew he couldn't possibly listen, not at this point in time. Not with Seiji looking like he wanted the world to end and Touma looking like he regretted nothing.   
  
So he headed for the front door.   
  
"Ryo!" he heard Touma call out. The deep voice, so familiar to him, had all the bile reserved for a petulant child.   
  
Fuck that.   
  
Ryo shut the door behind him with a bang.   
  
  
  
  
  
This wasn't fair.   
  
\- was the thought going through his head as he walked to the bus stop, without his shoes. He remembered the route that he and Touma had taken earlier that day, and was simply retracing it to get home. Fuck his shoes.   
  
Seiji... he was going to grow up, just like the rest of them. He was going to get a good life. He was going to be popular and rich and surrounded by girls, and he was going to show them all how it was  _done._   
  
He was going to have the future that he deserved. As a Trooper. As someone Ryo held dear.   
  
The bus came. Ryo found himself an empty seat somewhere at the back, where his seething would not infect anyone. It was quite hard to change his mood when it was taking him over. He knew this. He knew he didn't need to be near anybody else right now.   
  
Maybe he was vaguely aware that the other passengers of the bus were steering clear of the dark-skinned, black-haired, gray-eyed young man at the back emitting rage from every pore. Maybe he was a bit repentant. But he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment.   
  
He tried to calm down. Be rational. He tried to think back to everything else that Touma said that day. He tried to recall what Touma had said about needing a new job. And about the nature of Seiji's illness - did Touma say something about the armor and a childhood disease?   
  
He tried to make himself believe there was a good reason for all of this.   
  
But Touma should've told them. It shouldn't have gotten this bad.   
  
This was beyond stupid.   
  
This wasn't fair.   
  
_Why had Touma not told them?_   
  
\- was the question running over and over in his head. Touma was the one who had attended all those reunions. Who had always spoken on Seiji's behalf. What could have made it so hard for him to say anything?   
  
But even as Ryo asked himself these things, his mind went into red static. He was going home. He was going to cool off. Maybe in a few days, when Shin and/or Shuu were able to check up on them, Ryo would be able to calm down enough to catch up.   
  
Ryo settled back into his seat, forcing himself to subside and to think of other things. Forcing himself to completely forget that he had come all this way because Touma had asked for his help.


	4. Chapter 4

Trying to lose himself in work was, ironically, not working. Putting some photographs together for an exhibit only busied his hands - he couldn't even pay attention. He would wake from a second's stupor wondering what in the world he was doing, overexposing new prints and grouping unrelated pictures together.   
  
The memory of Seiji's emaciated body materialized behind his closed eyelids when he tried to go to sleep. He could still smell the medicine that clung to Seiji's skin like perfume, could even taste the scent at the back of his tongue. More than once he was sorely tempted to pick up the phone and call Touma's apartment. And apologize. And finish talking about Seiji properly.   
  
Maybe then, he said to himself, things would make more sense.   
  
A part of him was still hoping Touma would call first. Touma would do that - swallow his pride if it was necessary. If it was important enough for everyone to get along.   
  
But Ryo knew well enough how stubborn Touma was. He never relished the idea of making the first move to patch things up. And if time wasn't of the essence, he wouldn't bother.   
  
He wondered if Touma was in this position right now - sleepless and tormented over whether or not he should call. It comforted Ryo a bit to think that he was. It made him feel better to believe that there were some things about Touma he could always be sure about.   
  
"Like how unbelievably stupid," Ryo started to say to himself, in the isolation of his bedroom, in the middle of the night. He caught himself, shut up, and threw an arm over his eyes.   
  
In the mornings, during his regular walks to the village near his cabin, Ryo found himself looking through the classifieds for job openings for laboratory workers. Then he gave up because he never really read the papers, and there was never really anything to find - apart from small custodial jobs that he was sure Touma wouldn't go for.   
  
...Or would he? Just how important was it for the young, brilliant, and now infamous Dr. Hashiba to get access to a good laboratory?   
  
Then he reminded himself how ridiculous it was that he was still looking for a way to help, when he and Touma weren't even talking.   
  
One of the things Ryo told himself so it would be easier to stay away was this: Touma had not told him about Seiji's illness earlier. That meant Touma hadn't wanted him involved. Had not wanted him to be concerned.   
  
So he was just doing what Touma wanted. He wasn't being concerned. And if Touma had  _really_  wanted his help for anything, he would call first.   
  
Four nights later, he was still telling himself this, when he picked up the phone and dialed Touma's number in Tokyo.   
  
  
  
  
  
The one who answered the phone was Shin.   
  
"Ryo!" Shin greeted. It was almost a yelp of surprise. Then he lowered his voice. "Touma told us what happened."   
  
By how softly Shin was speaking, Ryo could tell that Touma was in his apartment. Probably somewhere near the phone. If so, he was quite sure Touma would have heard Shin say his name loudly. However, he could also hear Shuu's loud voice in the background, so Touma was probably being kept busy.   
  
"When did you guys get there?" Ryo asked, keeping his volume down as well.   
  
"Shuu got here yesterday and slept over. I got here just today, from Aomori." Shin sighed, "Ryo... I don't know how much Touma was able to tell you. But from what Shuu and I've seen... things look pretty bad."   
  
Ryo nodded, as if the person on the other end of the line could see. "How are they?"   
  
Shin knew what this meant, of course. "Seiji's calm. He seems to sleep better with Shuu making noise." A pause. "As for Touma... well, the bruises are fading, but he's still sore. You know how he gets..." There was no need for him to continue. Ryo did know.   
  
"Are he and Seiji... you know. Okay?"   
  
" 'Okay' ?" He could hear the smile in Shin's voice - pure amusement, not a trace of bitterness or malice. He would have that smile, as someone who tended to think he knew his younger friends better than they knew themselves. "I think so. Seiji told me that they had a good long talk. About you. He's forgiven Touma for going behind his back. He said... Touma wouldn't have brought you over if he really didn't need you to be there."   
  
This was not helping. Ryo sighed and ran a hand through his hair.   
  
But Shin was nowhere near done talking.   
  
"He takes things on by himself, Ryo. He doesn't ask for help. That's how Touma is. And if I remember correctly, that's how you are, too."   
  
Shin's voice was gentle but firm. This was to be expected. What Ryo did not expect was that this approach was working. Already he was feeling less of a heel, even if he probably shouldn't.   
  
"So what are you going to do?" Shin asked.   
  
"Are you serious?" Raising his voice again. Ryo kept himself in check. "I want to help!"   
  
Shin made a small sound of agreement. "Then come over. Given the situation Touma and Seiji are in... it's better for you to come back now than later."   
  
He didn't really like the idea of returning to the apartment so soon. But Shin was right. No matter how Touma acted like, there was no time to waste.   
  
"Shuu and I will be around until you get here. We're already pitching in some ideas, but we all have to talk about this together. That's the only way we'll really get something done."   
  
Ryo quickly made a promise to be on the first train there in the morning.   
  
"Good," Shin remarked. Again, with that smile in his voice. "We're all we've got, eh?"   
  
Curt goodbyes, then the conversation ended. Ryo couldn't help but be relieved that it was Shin who had answered the phone. Nobody else could have convinced him to get his act together, in such a gentle manner and with such faith that he was actually going to do it.   
  
Shin's influence went a long way. The more Ryo thought about catching the train at first light, the more he actually anticipated it. None of them ever  _fought_ , not really - there was always some way to set things right. There were other friends, who did not take sides.   
  
When under fire, he could lose his head. It was like that even while he still had his armor. It wasn't right for him to be so hard on Touma if he was prone to doing stupid things, too.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
He'd packed only a change of clothes. He wasn't exactly expecting to be asked to stay over, but he wasn't prepared to go home either.   
  
He had his one rucksack slung over his shoulder when he pressed the buzzer.   
  
Not surprisingly, Touma was the one who answered the door. It was, after all, his apartment. But Ryo fell absolutely still anyway. His breath caught for a second.   
  
Touma looked at Ryo expectantly. The tall young man held the door open, one hand in his pocket. He was pulling back his broad shoulders out of habit, assuming a defensive stance that reminded Ryo very much of an archer drawing a bow.   
  
He was still as haggard as he was the last time they met. At least his shirt looked decently pressed this time. Shin, most probably. There was still a sharp red mark where his lower lip had been bleeding, a few days back.   
  
"So..." Ryo began.   
  
"So," his friend echoed.   
  
Ryo fidgeted with the strap of the rucksack. He wanted to look cool while doing this, at least, but he couldn't help himself. He had to lower his gaze as he said "I'm sorry."   
  
Something happened to the atmosphere then. It must have been when Touma exhaled and cleared whatever evil thing it was that hung between them and prevented them from touching. Touma was finally able to reach past the invisible barrier and take Ryo by the arm.   
  
"Let's talk inside."   
  
Ryo nodded and allowed himself to be led back into the apartment he had fled from just a few days ago.    
  
Neither Ryo nor Touma looked at each other for a while. But the gentle pressure of his fingers on Ryo's arm said  _Thanks for coming back_  and  _I'm sorry, too._   
  
The pressure was there even after he let go.   
  
  
  
  
  
This what what they had decided: Touma was going to set up his own lab. This was the only way he could continue researching Seiji's medicine and not need to worry about having to move Seiji to a more affordable, less comfortable location.   
  
Also, it was the only way Touma could proceed with maximum freedom - no bossy execs, no mousy overpolite bureaucrats keeping him under a magnifying glass. And Touma needed that freedom. Even if he warned his friends that it wasn't likely that he could achieve it.   
  
"The fastest and most viable way," he informed them, "is to find at least one wealthy sponsor. And that sponsor is likely to have conditions. It's not just going to be me running the show."   
  
His friends were aware that Touma would need massive funding for that lab, of course. And they would need to set it up at record time. That was why Shin and Shuu were going to ring people's phones off the hook. Perhaps there were some scientists out there willing to lend support in the form of equipment, supplies, manpower, or simply money. Perhaps there were relatives who could help financially, or could spare some things Touma would need.   
  
"There's Nasuti," Shuu brought up. Touma voiced out his concern about troubling a married woman with little kids, albeit one who was also a world-renowned eco-scientist, but Shuu assured him she would rather not be kept in the dark.   
  
Another guilty look swept over Touma. This time he did not even bother to disguise it. He kept his gaze down and openly said it: He was sorry.   
  
"I shouldn't have kept it secret," he said quietly, hiding his lips behind his clenched hands. "I have no excuse."   
  
Shuu, who had been standing, clapped one hand against Touma's back. The force of it shook Touma's entire body, and Touma had to slap his hands onto the tabletop to steady himself and not fall off the chair. "Don't apologize," he admonished. "Being polite is Seiji's job, man. Sorry, but you suck at it." He looked over at Shin and winked. Shin shrugged in assent, grinning.   
  
Ryo found it amazing how it was so easy for those two to look past the way Touma withheld information from them. Was it wrong of him to have felt so strongly about not being told, after all? Weren't they even a  _little_  upset?   
  
He made a mental note to talk to Shin and Shuu about it. Shin had indicated earlier that he wanted to talk to Ryo alone, anyway.   
  
In the meantime, Ryo pitched in. He had decided that he was going to stay and help with running the household for as long as he could. He had some money saved, he said, and he had never really needed much for himself.   
  
"Don't worry about money!" Shuu snapped. "I'll be busy with the family restaurant and I won't have a lot of time to visit so... it's the least I can do, okay!"   
  
It was unsettling for everyone else to see the normally jovial Shuu so upset. Fully aware of this, and just to lighten the air, Shuu reminded them all that he was lucky with money - it was in his birth sign, he said. He would always have money to spare for important things, and his friends were always important.   
  
Worse comes to worse, he joked, he could always win the lottery again. Touma grumbled that he'd always known that thing could be rigged.   
  
"Money matters aside... are you sure you can afford to stay here, Ryo?" Shin asked. "What about your job?"   
  
Ryo assured him it was no problem. After all, he had the most flexible job of all of them. He was a freelance photographer on good terms with all his contacts. He could help with the solicitation, too - his travels had placed him in touch with people from all over the world.   
  
"They won't miss me." He shrugged. "I'll just tell them I have to take a break for family reasons. They'll understand."   
  
Touma's head turned to Ryo at the mention of the word "family." Ryo met his gaze and saw that Touma had at least relaxed enough to show a hint of gratitude.   
  
"It's not going to be easy, Ryo," Touma grimly told him. "Seiji is still able to walk around on his own now... but the worst case scenario is that he's eventually going to need round the clock care. It's going to be hard on you, so I'll understand if you'll want to go at any time..."   
  
"Are you trying to scare me into quitting before we even start?" Ryo put a hand on Touma's shoulder. "Listen. I'll be staying here so you can stop worrying about a few things. So don't worry about me. Okay?"   
  
Truth be told, he was surprised at how confident he sounded just then. He wondered if there was a way to know how to do that on command. Nearby he felt Shin and Shuu throwing their guards down, their faces breaking into relieved smiles.   
  
Touma's hand covered his, but he did not smile.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's in the advanced stages," Shin told Ryo, at the balcony near the greenhouse, where they had enough space away from everyone else.   
  
Touma had told Shin and Shuu more about the disease during Ryo's absence. Shin relayed that Touma had made an honest effort to ensure that the information wouldn't be overwhelming or hard to understand for laypersons like themselves - but a lot of it was anyway. Shin and Shuu asked a lot of questions and Touma did his best to answer them.   
  
"Ryo... listening to him, it felt like... Touma's in way over his head." The redhead absently rubbed his own upper arm, guarding against a chill only he could feel. "Seiji has been sick for five years, and very little of the medicine Touma is trying to make for him is working. Touma is sure that none of it is making him worse, but he's getting worse anyway. And I'm not sure..." Some reluctance. It was difficult for him to say what came next. "I'm not sure Touma knows what he's doing anymore."   
  
Hearing this sent a shudder up Ryo's spine. Shin was always perceptive about people, and when he said such things, it was as final as the heavens passing judgment.   
  
"What are you talking about?" Ryo challenged. "Touma always knows what he's doing." And it was true, he felt. Touma was the most deliberate, most precise person he had ever met.   
  
"No, I mean..." Grasping for words. Shin would end up saying things as they were anyway, but sometimes it hurt him before it could hurt anyone else, and more profoundly. "I think... Touma called for our help because he's at the end of his rope. Although he won't acknowledge it. It's not that he won't accept that Seiji's condition is out of his hands - it's that he CAN'T accept it."   
  
"Are you saying it'll be useless to set up a lab, like Touma wants?" It was an unpleasant thing to say, but it was always easier for Ryo to be direct.   
  
Shin shook his head. "Touma's fighting. Like Seiji is. We have to help them fight. That's what we're here for. But."   
  
Shin trailed off. Ryo leaned forward on the railing and looked out at the unwary city, making the most of the silence that Shin allowed into the conversation.   
  
"If we only had our armor," Shin said faintly. "Maybe, all together, just maybe... there's a chance."   
  
Meaning, he thought there was NO chance. Not right now, not without the magical things of their youth, the distant dream they would all have happily forgotten if this tragedy had not struck.   
  
Shin, who always had faith, always knew things were going to turn out well, thought Seiji's chances of survival were nonexistent.   
  
"Shin," Ryo began, "tell me the truth. Did you know that Seiji was sick before now?"   
  
Again, Shin shook his head. His red hair, always worn slightly long, whipped about his face in the steady breeze.   
  
"Don't you - I mean, aren't you -  _angry_ ?" Because right now it just seems you're worried, Ryo wanted to say but couldn't. Worried and sad. Not outraged. Not incapable of acceptance. Not like I was.   
  
"It... took a lot out of me to see Seiji like that," Shin quietly answered. "Shuu, too. We might have been upset at first, but... you've seen Touma. You can see how much it's hurt him to hide it from the rest of us. I couldn't be angry. If we turned against him, too... there's no telling what he would resort to."   
  
Ryo had to admit, he hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought of Touma's secrecy as anything but betrayal. And just then, looking back at what had happened in Touma's apartment, Ryo realized something:   
  
The look in Touma's eyes. Past the indignation, past the steel that kept him safe from Ryo's assaults, there was something stirring in the deep blue. Something that looked a great deal like desperation.   
  
Like a silent plea:  _Don't do this. I can fight the world. Not you._   
  
Why did Ryo have to behave like that, anyway? What was so bad about what Touma had done? Why did he have to make it about  _him_  and not about Touma and Seiji, and how much they had gone through?   
  
He couldn't remember.   
  
He stepped out of his thoughts and saw Shin looking at him intently.   
  
"Ryo. Both Touma and Seiji need us. We can't make the unavoidable go away." He leaned closer to Ryo, showing that the sea-green of his eyes had darkened with grave sincerity. "But we can make it easier."


	5. Chapter 5

Touma introduced Ryo to the spare room in the apartment even before Shuu and Shin left. By the time they did, he was fully settled in.   
  
At the start, Ryo feared that he wasn't as welcome in the household as he wanted to be, in light of recent occurrences - but both Touma and Seiji appeared to be only too glad to pretend nothing had happened. The small red scar on Touma's lower lip was the only reminder, and even then it was often forgotten.   
  
The three of them spent most of their days together, with Touma teaching Ryo how to take over some tasks related to caring for the house and caring for Seiji when he wasn't around, and with Seiji telling Ryo entirely different things as soon as Touma's back was turned.   
  
"Actually, it's not true that water is all I can drink," he whispered aside to Ryo. "Once a week I can have a little vodka."   
  
"I HEARD THAT," Touma cried out from the hall. "RYO, DON'T LISTEN. SEIJI, STOP CONFUSING HIM."   
  
Ryo did his best to memorize as many of the charts, emergency numbers, calendar dates and dosages as he could. It wasn't easy, but he was driven to be useful.   
  
And eventually, Ryo even learned to clean up Touma's clutter without messing up the weird order that he had to his chaos. Touma liked to have things where he left them, though that usually meant all over the carpet and in strange formations on various shelves, cupboards included.   
  
Ryo had to learn how to arrange things in a way that would still fall within Touma's comfort zones, which often ran along the lines of "I know I left it somewhere in the library... oh there it is, in that neat pile I don't remember being there before. See, I told you."   
  
And sometimes Ryo treated them both to stories of his adventures as a fledgling globetrotter. Seiji had saved the postcards he'd sent to Touma's Tokyo apartment (all of the ones he'd sent Seiji were being kept safe in his family home in Miyagi) - and as it so happened, Ryo had at least one incredibly detailed story to tell for each one.   
  
It was a way to pass the time between chores and medications.   
  
Surprisingly, his stories seemed to be well-received. He didn't think they were  _that_  entertaining, but some of them actually propelled Touma into laughing fits (usually because of the stupid things Ryo had done, which stung) and many of them got Seiji asking questions.   
  
Seiji wanted to know all the folk stories Ryo could remember. It must have come from him being a Classical Literature major. Touma couldn't get enough of that bit about the hyena that humped Ryo's leg and followed him around for miles.  _That_  must have come from him being a dick.   
  
Ryo realized that Shin was right: he wasn't just there to take care of Seiji. He was there for both his friends, who were, at the moment, the two people in the world who needed his help the most, and who found some sort of respite in his company.   
  
But on some days, Touma left for various errands: perhaps he was meeting with the helpful people that Shin and Shuu had found, or he was applying for jobs, or he was doing research in various libraries, or all of the above. He did not always let Ryo know, and Ryo did not always remember to ask.   
  
Ryo was quick to accustom himself to the routines that governed Seiji's continued existence. Seiji was remarkably easy to take care of... until he found it hard to move or breathe - which happened more than once a day if he was under enough stress - and then he had to go under for a few hours. Before that could happen, Seiji made an effort to pick up after himself and not be in Ryo's way. He spent most of his time in the greenhouse, tending to his plants.   
  
Ryo was surprised to find that he didn't mind the change in lifestyle at all. Traveling for work was getting tiring - and it was as if he hadn't noticed, before now. In this spacious apartment, big as his own house and not quite as lonely, he could be with two of his best friends, and find rest during the quiet moments.   
  
And in his spare time, he read Seiji's books.   
  
  
  
  
  
"The kid general," Ryo asked one day, "he's gay, isn't he?"   
  
Seiji was sitting in one of the couches in the living room, close to the open door to the balcony, where he could close his eyes and feel the sunlight on his skin. Ryo was sitting near him, poring through Seiji's personal collection of published works as if he had never done it before - which he hadn't, truth be told. Seiji and Touma both regularly sent him books he simply never had the time to read before now.   
  
Without opening his eyes, Seiji muttered a perfectly innocent "What?"   
  
"He's gay." Ryo's brows were knitted. He spoke with perfect lack of guile. "For that strategist guy."   
  
The first response was a sort of twitch in Seiji's upper lip and left eyebrow.   
  
"Why do you say that?" Seiji asked.   
  
Ryo flipped idly through the pages of the novelette in his hand. It was an earlier volume of his longest-running Sengoku-era epic - the one that was put on hold due to "author's illness," to the distress of readers around the world. The story centered on a young, dashing feudal lord and his four precocious friends, who bravely resisted the progress of an evil warlord's army through their lands.   
  
Ryo rather enjoyed it.   
  
"See, at first I thought he was gay for his lord. With all those promises of dying for him and the laying the whole world to waste at his feet... kind of thing." He sounded, for all the world, genuinely curious. As a reward, Seiji opened his eyes and gave him his full attention. "But then he got on better with that strategist guy. At the start, it was like they were just working for the same thing, right? Then before you know it, the kid general's all worried for the strategist guy's life and won't leave him alone. And then they're saying all those things to each other..." Ryo waved one free hand in the air, the other still gripping the book open at the page he was reading last. "You wrote them, you know what they are."   
  
Seiji watched Ryo's hand flit about, amusement gleaming where sunlight met pale violet. "I... can't say it's strange behavior for the general," Seiji informed him. "The strategist himself says some... flowery words to other men, doesn't he?"   
  
"Flowery, yeah..." Ryo echoed thoughtfully. He scratched his head. "Come to think of it, it was like he was flirting with all those other dudes. And those other dudes were flirting back."   
  
Seiji stared at Ryo, who looked clueless as ever.   
  
"Ryo... you've never read a classical novel before, have you."   
  
The knee-jerk reaction was resentment. He'd  _read_  classical novels for school, of course. He just couldn't remember a single title, for the life of him...   
  
"Men did talk like that, in the old days. Even to each other," Seiji informed him. "...Well, maybe they didn't, but all the old texts sure say so. It doesn't mean anything."   
  
This took Ryo a few beats to process. "...So nobody's gay?"   
  
Seiji said nothing for a long time. A number of expressions flashed across his face in sequence. He seemed to be thinking of what to say.   
  
Then his shoulders started to shake.   
  
Alarmed, Ryo dropped the book he was reading. He called Seiji's name once, then rushed to him in a few urgent strides.   
  
When the shaking wouldn't stop even after Ryo had come close, he wrapped his arms around Seiji, intending to pull his friend off his seat and take him back to the bedroom he and Touma shared. He feared that his lame questioning had left Seiji overexerted. After all, Touma had warned that the muscles around Seiji's lungs had become so weak, there were times when just breathing and speaking were difficult for him.   
  
Or was it oxygen. Did he need the oxygen tank?   
  
Seiji's hands clawed at Ryo's sleeves. At first Ryo thought he was trying to pull himself up out of the chair, but that wasn't the case.   
  
He was trying to pull Ryo down.   
  
So Ryo bent down. Seiji threw his arms around Ryo's shoulders. The sheer weight of his body pulled them closer together. Ryo could feel Seiji's breath on the part of his shoulder that wasn't covered by the cloth of his shirt.   
  
And that was when he realized that Seiji was  _laughing._   
  
"Ryo," Seiji muttered against his skin. "thank you."   
  
Eh...? "For what?" He tried pulling away, but Seiji's arms were still locked about him.   
  
"We haven't... laughed this much in ages," Seiji said between chuckles, "Touma and I."   
  
It might have been a compliment, if Ryo had been trying to be funny. But it wasn't a compliment, exactly; it was Seiji telling him it was worth it to be here.   
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't like the old lady who lives down the hall."   
  
It was almost time for the evening news. Touma had set up camp in the dining room, using the large dinner table as a place to organize his newer notes into sheafs. He looked up over his reading glasses to watch Ryo walking into the kitchen, arms filled with paper grocery bags.   
  
"She's rude," Ryo continued to lament. "And she's a gossip. At first she was talking to me because she thought I had my own apartment in this building. Then she learned I was just staying with you and Seiji. All of a sudden she turned mean after that, you should've seen how - "   
  
"Ryo," Touma interrupted. "You do realize that one of the reasons I got an upscale apartment in the middle of the metropolis was to minimize on nosy neighbors, right?"   
  
Ryo blinked, still holding a can of vegetable soup halfway from its destined shelf. "...It was?"   
  
A sage nod. "It was. So stop making friends with the neighbors."   
  
Ryo frowned. More like pouted, but Touma wasn't exactly looking. "All right..." He went back to taking out groceries from their bags and arranging them on the refrigerator and the cupboards.   
  
"What did she say about Seiji and me?" Touma asked after a very long pause.   
  
"Nothing," Ryo lied. "She was nasty to  _me_ . She said I was old enough to get my own place so I should stop mooching off my friends."   
  
The truth was, the nasty old lady who lived down the hall had said some pretty horrible things about Touma and Seiji. She had this crazy idea, for example, that the two were living together as lovers. For the record, she thought it was disgusting. And anyone who lived in with them must be disgusting as well.   
  
It did not occur to Ryo at the time to hit the old lady across the face just to get her to shut up. But in retrospect, it might have at least made him feel better about there being such people in the world. All he did, all he could do, was take his civil leave while she yammered on.   
  
But if Touma had an idea that Ryo was trying to hide something, he didn't show it. "Listen, I know you're a friendly guy," he told Ryo, "but nobody can know about our business. People like that old lady, they talk, and they spread the wrong ideas around. All right?"   
  
"I said 'all right' already!" Ryo was social and at the same time clueless about social rules. He got it.   
  
There was no venom in Ryo's retort, and Touma processed none. He let the matter drop and returned to his notes as if they had just talked about the weather.   
  
But something had been bothering Ryo since that conversation with the nosy neighbor. He dwelt on it as he put the groceries in order, and when he was done he was free to get it off his chest.   
  
"Touma, I want to understand."   
  
Sensing a very long discussion in the offing, Touma sighed and removed his spectacles. "Understand what?" he asked, facing Ryo.   
  
"I get why you'd want to hide Seiji's condition from the rest of the world... he's famous and having people talk would be bad for him." Having people talk within the building they lived in would be bad for him, too, Ryo knew, though it was harder to avoid that. Maybe there was no way to avoid it at all. "But why did you have to keep it a secret from  _us,_  too? What was it you didn't want us to know about?"   
  
Touma fell still, and there was a heavy silence. There was a great deal of that when he and Touma were talking, Ryo realized. But it was still better than letting certain issues hang over their heads.   
  
"I didn't want to keep it a secret," Touma said eventually - in a low voice, presumably so that anyone who would be in another room could not overhear. "Seiji did."   
  
" _He_  wanted it?" Ryo was incredulous. Seiji was the one who didn't want to tell them?   
  
No. Ryo couldn't believe that. It wasn't like him. Seiji knew how Ryo would worry. He would  _say something_ .   
  
But then, Ryo remembered how Seiji had looked when Touma brought Ryo in to see him: hurt, panicked, and more than a little betrayed. Perhaps it was possible...   
  
"Ryo," Touma said, and there was a hard edge in his voice. "Don't ask if you don't want to know."   
  
Again with the sudden coldness. Ryo wasn't used to any of his friends having so many walls around them in his presence. He supposed Touma knew this, and risked offending him, just because he couldn't help himself.   
  
"I want to know," Ryo said, hoping to sound harmless and at the same time like he wouldn't back down.   
  
Touma looked away. Ryo seized the chance to sit at the table, near enough to Touma so neither of them would have to speak too loudly. After a moment Touma took a deep breath, a little of which he let out in a brief sigh. The rest, he used to start talking.   
  
"It was by accident that I found out. Five years ago, during the last time we saw each other. We were doing karaoke, remember that? While Shuu was singing Sailormoon songs, Seiji said he wanted to step out for some fresh air."   
  
Sailormoon songs. It was just like Touma to remember such details vividly. Useless information seemed to stick in his head the longest.   
  
Ryo had even forgotten that Seiji had stepped out for a bit. And that Touma had gone after him. It just didn't register at the time.   
  
"I followed him because I felt something was wrong. I found him standing in the shadows, staring at his hand. He didn't hear me approaching. I grabbed his hand and it couldn't grab me back. It was so weak..."   
  
Ryo distinctly remembered that Seiji's grip was strong the last time they shook hands, at the end of that reunion. But he also remembered that one of the things Touma had said about Seiji's illness was that the muscle weakness had not always been permanent; in fact, during the initial stages, Seiji would be unable to move his limbs only for a minute or two, then it would be like nothing happened. It was only recently that the lack of control became a constant problem.   
  
Touma and Seiji had always been close. Not as Shin and Shuu were close, those two had been (and still were) like brothers separated at the cradle... but Touma and Seiji were like two people who shared a grim secret that nobody else could understand.   
  
At times, watching them, Ryo felt a little jealous. But he would walk up to one of them, and the feeling would dissipate. He only felt excluded when the two of them were alone together - but when he was near either one of them, like right now, he was part of their world.   
  
"Back then, he was still on his feet," Touma continued. "Deterioration was going at a snail's pace, and the symptoms vanished for long stretches of time. But Seiji had apparently been feeling those symptoms since Kourin disappeared. He just assumed it was some sort of... armor withdrawal or something." A bitter chuckle. "And that it would go away by itself...   
  
"He said he didn't want the rest of us to worry if it turned out to be nothing. That was why he didn't want to let the rest of you know. I asked him - well, bullied him - to let me help. But the more I looked into the problem, the more I saw how complicated it was. And how deadly."   
  
That must have been when he left his old job and crammed like hell, so he could get his medical license in two years. When Touma had made up his mind about the correct course of action, nothing could detract him. Ryo knew this much. "Bullied" might have been exactly the right word to use for what he did to Seiji.   
  
"And then," Touma said, half to himself, "things happened. A lot of things. I only really had time to  _do_  stuff, not talk about them."   
  
"You didn't even think about the rest of us," Ryo quietly accused, "did you?"   
  
The question took Touma by surprise. "Of course I did." They were almost visible, the walls coming back up. "But I thought of Seiji first."   
  
"That's just it! You changed careers. You even went back to college for two years. You let him move in with you. Then you risked your job, the way you lived, your reputation -"   
  
"I had to help him." The response was automatic. Almost hostile.   
  
"Touma... you didn't just do that. You turned your whole life around for him."   
  
_He's a friend,_  was the easy answer.  _Like you are, Ryo. You would've done the same._   
  
But it wasn't the truth. Seiji was  _not_  like Ryo. Not to Touma. That much was painfully evident.   
  
"I've told you what you wanted to know," Touma said with finality. He put on his glasses again and turned back to his notes with a visible slouch.   
  
Ryo sat watching him for a minute, waiting to see if Touma was going to say or do anything more. But soon a soft alarm came on - a daily thing that Touma had set for himself, to remind him it was time for the evening news - and Touma ignored it, remaining bent over the papers in his hands. Eventually Ryo had to move to shut it off.   
  
Fine. If he insisted on being vague, Ryo would have to figure out himself later what it was that seemed so strange.


	6. Chapter 6

After six weeks, Ryo decided a haircut was due.   
  
Not for himself, however. He was quite content to keep his own jet-black hair shoulder-length. That made it easier to manage, as it seemed to insist on growing longer the more he cut it anyway.   
  
The haircut in question was Seiji's.   
  
The best place for it was in the greenhouse, not just because it was warmer and there was more light. The greenhouse was Seiji's domain. In it he felt and looked more comfortable, if not livelier.   
  
So Ryo spread a couple of old newspapers over the narrow walking space and set up a chair. A minute later, Seiji had a dry towel slung around his shoulders, and he sat facing the Tokyo cityscape, all of serenity and trust while Ryo stood behind him, scissors in hand.   
  
Figuring out what to do with Seiji's hair started off tougher than Ryo thought it would be. It didn't have the "bounce" that it did when he was younger, and was darker and thinner. In the past, Ryo was aware, it just sort of stayed up on its own. Now it had to look good even if it couldn't, and Ryo really wasn't a professional at making hair look good.   
  
Thankfully, the task worked itself out. As soon as his fingers touched Seiji's hair, still warm and damp from the bath, he just sort of knew. There was no way to keep that swath of blond hair from falling over his right eye, so he wouldn't bother. The rest was going to be easy.   
  
Seiji sat, back straight as always, with his hands folded over a notebook on his lap.   
  
"Ryo," Seiji began, "when our armor went away... do you think our virtues went away, too?"   
  
It wasn't such a strange question. What was strange was that it reminded Ryo of the first thing Touma said to him in Miyanokouji Bar.   
  
"Nah," Ryo answered. "We were born with our virtues, so I don't think they can just leave us like that."   
  
The answer did not seem to satisfy Seiji, so Ryo followed up with: "You still have  _your_  virtue, that's for sure."   
  
Seiji chuckled softly. "You do, too."   
  
This made Ryo smile. He never really felt he was being "benevolent" by giving up his time, money and energy to stay here - in fact, he had decided he was being selfish. He  _wanted_  to help, he  _needed_  to be present.   
  
Besides - he was aware that Seiji was in a lot more pain than he purposefully showed. His friend's courage and his unique virtue, "grace," might have been all that kept his shoulders squared, and his day to day outlook devoid of the sort of bitterness that would have eaten any ordinary person in his position, from the inside out.   
  
There was no way Ryo could turn his back on that.   
  
"Touma sure does a good job of hiding his virtue," Ryo attempted to joke. "He's always off doing... something or other. Working himself sick, probably. What's so wise about that?"   
  
Seiji fell silent.   
  
While Ryo was brushing Seiji's hair back, the tips of his fingers briefly touched Seiji's lips. This wasn't the first time he'd touched Seiji's face, accidentally or otherwise, but he was always surprised at how dry his lips were, though they always seemed dry from a distance. Touch was different.   
  
"I know." Seiji muttered after a while. "Touma really should go out and have more fun."   
  
Ryo's brow knitted. For a reaction to a failed joke, that was delayed and somewhat unexpected.   
  
"He walks around here like the weight of the world is on his shoulders," said the young man whose now-brittle shoulders actually did bear the weight of the world. "The bad vibes are killing my bonsai."   
  
Ryo replayed the words in his head to check if Seiji sounded like he was joking. He didn't. Not in the least. However, all of his plants looked fine. Of course, what would Ryo know about bonsai.   
  
"Ryo... do you think something can be done about that?"   
  
  
  
  
  
  
At the time, Ryo had only shrugged the question off, saying something light about how it was impossible to get the bone-headed Touma to change his ways.   
  
But he thought about what Seiji said.   
  
He thought about it long and hard.   
  
So the next time Touma stayed in, intent on spending the day sitting at the dining table, poring over his notes, Ryo walked up to him, hands on his hips.   
  
"Touma."   
  
Without even looking up, "What."   
  
"You need a day off."   
  
There was a long pause. Touma's gaze continued sweeping over the papers in his hands. Ryo waited patiently until the tall young man hunched over at the table nonchalantly answered "No I don't."   
  
"You need a haircut," Ryo insisted, undaunted. "And a new set of clothes. And fresh air."   
  
"I showered and shaved this morning, mother. That's about all I have time for, thanks."   
  
Of all the things that got on Ryo's nerves about this particular old friend, his calm stubbornness probably took the cake. It came out of being smarter than everyone else and therefore right more times than was healthy, Ryo supposed. Touma grew up rude out of necessity.   
  
But if Ryo was able to stomach the smarm as a youngster, he could certainly take it now.   
  
"Fine, if you're not going out..."   
  
Tilt. The backrest of Touma's chair tipped back and his feet left the floor.    
  
Ryo wasn't a wildlife photographer for nothing. He might have had a lean body, but he had enough muscle for his job - strong arms for wrestling offended lionesses or startled bears, for example. These were the arms that he used now to drag Touma's chair away from the dining table, and out to the significantly brighter and more spacious living room.   
  
Touma sat rigid, with nothing but his papers to hold on to, while he was so brazenly relocated.   
  
As soon as his chair's front legs dropped to the floor with a light thud, he demanded "What are you doing?"   
  
Ryo didn't answer. He went to work rummaging for various items around the house. Touma shrugged and decided Ryo's bouts of irrationality were in fact none of his concern. He continued reading the papers in his hands.   
  
Then something fell over his field of vision.   
  
It took Touma a second before he could snap out of the haze of formulae and determine that it was, indeed, a tablecloth over his head.    
  
Touma struggled, but even as he did, Ryo wrapped one side of the tablecloth around his neck with expert speed.   
  
Touma's face was freed. So he could better see that there was a tablecloth tied around his neck like a cloak, obscuring the papers he had been reading.   
  
"What's this ab - HEY!" Touma cried. Ryo was coolly relieving him of his eyeglasses and study material in a few fluid motions.   
  
Then Ryo vanished behind him, and there was an ominous  _snip-snipping_  sound.   
  
"Hold still or I'll cut your ear off. On purpose."   
  
"Do you even know how to hold that thing?!" Touma tried to turn his head, but Ryo's hand on his temple kept it in place. Whatever it was,  _wherever Ryo had gotten it from_ , it sounded sharp.   
  
"I've had to cut my own hair ever since I was a kid." A loud sigh of exasperation, designed to dissipate his friend's edginess. "Will you just hold still!"   
  
Grumbling, Touma settled in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest under the tablecloth. He made it a point to look grumpy all throughout the process, not that it made a difference. It was pointless to argue with the guy with the scissors.   
  
It didn't take Ryo long to figure out what to do with Touma's hair. The first time Ryo saw Touma again in Shinjuku, one word that came to him was "overgrown." Too much hair covering the back of his neck, falling over his eyes. The hair wasn't long or well-kept enough to look effeminate, but neither was it especially shabby.   
  
That appearance might not bother anyone who had just met Dr. Hashiba Touma - it gave him all the affectation of a busy urban eccentric. But for someone who knew this particular busy urban eccentric as a youngster, and had become used to a much neater version of him... it needed a little trimming.   
  
Just a bit later, Ryo was done. He would have to vacuum later to clean up the bits of hair that had fallen to the unprotected floor, but the inconvenience didn't even occur to him. He stepped back and admired his handiwork.   
  
A number of heavy years had also fallen from Touma's shoulders.   
  
With the hair on the back of his head cropped close, and the bangs in front kept reasonably long, it seemed Touma could hold his head up more easily. He took one look at the hand mirror he was given, then he glared unimpressed up at his impromptu hairdresser from underneath a switch of blue hair falling over the bridge of his nose.    
  
Glare and all, the familiar haircut made him look quite his age. And quite fetching as well, if Ryo could say so himself, especially with the sunlight and the view of the city behind him, making his features look darker.   
  
"We're done," Touma dryly announced as he extricated himself from the confines of drapery. "Can I go back to work now?"   
  
A simple haircut had done wonders for Seiji's mood. But for some reason, Touma still emanated stress (and crankiness) afterwards. It seemed more aggressive methods were called for.   
  
Ryo just got an idea. He moved back behind Touma's chair.   
  
"Nope." Strong tiger-taming hands pushed Touma down by the shoulders, keeping him in his seat. "I told you not to move."   
  
Ryo's fingers rhythmically applied a gentle pressure on Touma's shoulders, in a way that suddenly made Touma feel rather naked and then wish for the tablecloth back.   
  
"What are you doing," he asked again.   
  
There was no answer. Anyway, it was a stupid question. It was all too obvious what Ryo was doing.   
  
And it was only too clear that Ryo wasn't going to let him go back to work so easily. Touma let out a long, loud sigh. Ryo's hands worked until the muscles on Touma's neck and shoulders gave in, loosening and yielding as commanded.   
  
"How did you - " Touma began, and it came out as a groan.   
  
"Bali."   
  
"Ah."   
  
There was no way for Ryo to know what that "Ah" meant. Ryo didn't even know there was such a thing as Balinese massage when he went. It couldn't possibly be common knowledge, could it?   
  
Their work on the shoulders done, Ryo's hands made their way down Touma's back. Ryo had never actually done this to anyone else before, and it was hard with the cloth in the way. He wondered idly if he could persuade Touma to ditch the stupid shirt, since he was home anyway and nobody was watching.   
  
It didn't seem as if Touma was that used to receiving massages, either. He put up with everything with a grudging sort of tolerance.   
  
But Touma did flinch when pressure struck a spot on his ribs. "Not so hard," he snapped.   
  
...Okay. Ryo had forgotten that Touma had been flung backwards against wooden furniture six weeks back. But that couldn't possibly still be hurting. Maybe he was just ticklish there.   
  
Well, Ryo was steering clear of the ribs just in case. At least he had some confirmation that Touma wanted him to continue.   
  
With the clothes on, there was very little of Touma he had access to. He decided to attend to Touma's arms instead, one after the other. Right one first.   
  
The palms of Ryo's hands were rough with years of exercise and working outdoors, and he wondered if Touma was okay with them touching his bare skin without some sort of liniment, at least. But when his hands made their way down Touma's lean right arm down to his wrist, there was no complaint.   
  
In fact, there wasn't much of anything. Ryo looked over and saw Touma's eyes were shut.   
  
From behind Touma and his chair, he elevated Touma's right arm and started working on the hand. Ryo had never noticed before how Touma's hand was long-fingered, with the joints large and pronounced, compared to his own. The palms of his hands were rough, too, and there were ink and chemical stains on some of his fingernails, which Ryo somehow felt were permanent.   
  
And Touma's skin was cool. Then again, most people had skin cooler than his, Ryo was aware. Seiji's was even cooler. His hands must feel like fire to the people he touched.   
  
Just then, Touma's head lolled in his direction, interrupting his thoughts. A second later, he heard Touma softly snoring in his ear.   
  
Ryo had to bite his lips to keep from laughing out loud. He slid the arm he was holding around his own shoulders. "Come on," he said.   
  
Ryo had pulled Touma up to his feet before Touma realized he should be awake. "Huh?" he blearily responded.   
  
"Let's just get you to bed first, then you can go back to sleep."   
  
Touma's head dipped in what could have been a nod, before he entrusted most of his weight to Ryo. Though he was tall, he was never very heavy; Ryo bet he could even carry Touma in his arms back to the room he and Seiji shared, although that would surely prompt some awkward conversation later.   
  
Ryo didn't expect to feel what he did when Touma leaned against him. He felt trusted with something deeply private - something no one else even had the right to guess at.   
  
On impulse, he wrapped his other arm around his friend's waist.   
  
The plan was to half-carry Touma back to his bedroom, and half-let him sleepwalk there. But Touma's semi-conscious self found a suitable long couch and, being difficult by nature, decided it had other plans. Touma's arm slid off Ryo's shoulder and the young man tumbled onto the couch gracelessly, making a muffled crash.   
  
Ryo sighed. In Bali, he'd ended up asleep too. As well as buck naked and smelling like sandalwood on a stranger's bed, but at least he woke up invigorated from head to toe. He hoped Touma would wake up the same, although Ryo wasn't able to do much with him, and although it was probably hard to wholly relax on a couch.   
  
(Ryo found himself wishing he'd managed to outlast the embarrassment and ask around for massage lessons while he was in Indonesia. If only he'd known at the time that the skill would come in handy...)   
  
He made sure all of Touma's long limbs were safely on the couch, before he moved off to get a blanket. When he returned, Touma had shifted position and was on his back, an arm over his eyes.   
  
Ryo found himself staring. It was difficult to believe how young Touma looked while he slept. With his eyes thus obscured, and with his hair cut as neat it used to be, it was as if Ryo was looking at the Touma he used to know: the gangling teenager who spoke with an old man's confidence, but bantered with his friends like any ordinary kid when his guard was down. Who ate like a horse and liked high places and enjoyed playing practical jokes. And slept like a log.   
  
The scar on Touma's lower lip had all but completely faded. Without thinking, Ryo reached out to touch it with the tip of his index finger.   
  
He remembered just in time to be careful, lest his touch was too heavy. He was still a bit numb at the wrists from earlier.   
  
Touma's lower lip was warm. And soft. It almost surprised him.   
  
And it reminded him of Seiji's lips, so hard and dry to the touch, so different.   
  
  
  
  
  
Convincing Touma to leave the house for a day out was a natural step two. It wasn't so much that Touma had started to relax more around Ryo after the haircut, although that much was apparent - Touma reasoned that he'd already lost one whole day because Ryo put him to sleep. What was another day more.   
  
"You need more rest anyway," Seiji told him. His thin fingers absently played with Touma's bangs, and Touma allowed them to. Oddly enough, when it was Seiji touching any part of him, he didn't mind. "It's just for a few hours. I'll be fine alone."   
  
Though it seemed to Ryo that Seiji sounded a little distant, just then. Pensive. Even more than he usually was.   
  
So, with great reluctance, Touma allowed himself to be dragged out. It was still better for Ryo than him resisting the idea with everything he had.   
  
"Where do you want to go?" Ryo asked him. Touma's glare was sharp.   
  
"You're the one who wanted me out," he retorted. "Where do  _you_  want to go?"   
  
All right. Ryo had said Touma needed new clothes. That, plus the fact that they couldn't be away from Seiji and the apartment for long, meant they were simply headed downtown, at the Ginza.   
  
Ryo had wanted their first stop to be a game arcade. Touma, as could be expected, said no. They argued about this when they left the car (Touma  _did_  have a car: a modest and functional thing that he used to get around... but he didn't take it out when he and Ryo met in Shinjuku, because he'd wanted Ryo to know how to commute to and from his apartment. For all Ryo knew, he wasn't kidding about that). And this argument turned out to be the first conversation they had upon hitting the sidewalk of the shopping district.   
  
"Aren't we too old for video games?" Touma eyed his friend sidelong.   
  
"Too old?! You're just 25, you know."   
  
"24," acidly. " _You're_  25."   
  
Ryo rolled his eyes.   
  
"Senior citizen," Touma muttered. Ryo whacked him lightly upside the head, then pretended not to have heard anything.   
  
Ryo still remembered how as a teenager, Touma would refuse video games at first, calling them childish and a waste of time... but place a keypad in his hands, push him down in front of a TV, and he'd turn into a killing machine. He'd liked shooting games especially. Maybe he still did.   
  
Remembering Touma as a kid brought a smile to Ryo's face.   
  
In fact, Ryo had found himself thinking of the younger Touma a lot lately. Even when they were boys, Touma was always the self-assured one - except when he was faced with emotional or social dilemmas. Then life found him flustered and in denial about being annoyed. He wasn't so awkward now, but Ryo found that he  _missed_  that awkward boy. It made him vulnerable in an endearing way, and maybe Touma should be vulnerable more often.   
  
He wondered if Touma took the time out to think of their younger years as well. Of him, especially. He wanted to know how Touma remembered him.   
  
"Earth to Ryo."   
  
"...Huh? What?" He had been staring at something in a display window. A telescope? What were they doing standing in front of this thing?   
  
He suddenly became aware that Touma had, in fact, been spewing trivia about this thing for the past minute or so, but he had been lost in his thoughts and therefore incapable of comment. Touma  _had_ worked in an astronomical research lab before he got his medical degree, so of course these sorts of gadgets would interest him.   
  
Touma tried to look irritable, but a smirk reached his lips and ruined the impact. "Just as spaced out as you were as a brat, I see." He slapped the back of his hand lightly against Ryo's chest. "Pay attention. At this rate, a suit of armor falling from the sky could come crashing down on your head and you wouldn't notice."   
  
Now that was more like it. Ryo raised an eyebrow.   
  
"If it's from the sky, it's your armor." He started walking ahead. "Then I'd know who to kill."   
  
"Oh like you can kill me." Touma caught up with him in just a few strides. "You're hopeless without someone to keep your head on straight."   
  
"Yeah? You're so smart, why'd your armor fall from the sky."   
  
"Because someone needs to keep your head on straight! Pay attention!"   
  
Ryo  _was_  paying attention. This senseless talk was Touma's guard going down even more. He made a mental note to remember the shop and the brand of telescope they had been looking at earlier. At least as an omen of how things looked like the day was going to go well, after all.   
  
  
  
  
  
So they didn't go to the arcade. Instead, they ended up shopping for clothes and walking and talking for hours. Not that Ryo had any complaints.   
  
...Although Touma could have taken more time actually trying clothes on, instead of grabbing the cheapest things he could find and announcing "This'll do!". If Ryo hadn't been there, Touma would've amassed a whole wardrobe's worth of white sweaters just because they were on sale.   
  
Most of the clothes they had bought ended up being for Seiji. At first it was all right, but the longer it took, the more Ryo discovered that it unsettled him.   
  
...Why was Touma buying so many outdoor clothes for Seiji? Was Seiji actually going to be able to wear them?   
  
But he wasn't going to voice it out. He wasn't going to make a big deal of it, as long as Touma seemed to be enjoying himself.   
  
And while Touma seemed to know Seiji's taste in clothes (as well as his body type and measurements) quite well, it seemed he wasn't as adept at choosing clothes for himself. Good thing Ryo was there, then, at the very least to gently inform him that tweed was no longer in style.   
  
"Well, how would  _I_  know? Seiji knew things like that for the both of us," Touma began, but didn't continue. He clamped up after that, as if he had said something he shouldn't have.   
  
Ryo very kindly let him know that Seiji would be horrified to see him wearing a tie-dyed vest, even if it  _was_  50% off, and pulled the multicolored monstrosity out of Touma's confused grip.   
  
Shin should've been there, Ryo said to himself. Shin had the sort of snark that shamed a person into dressing well. He still remembered when Shin had accompanied him to a shopping trip once, and had introduced him to the ins and outs of his own body shape, all the while mocking his color coordination skills and saying in so many ways that he completely understood if fashion was a foreign concept in the mountains of Yamanashi.   
  
But maybe channeling Shin was enough for this excursion. This was  _their_  day, Touma and his. He had to be enough for making sure that Touma did not feel left to his own devices.   
  
  
  
  
  
Touma was a veritable chatterbox if he was comfortable with you. Ryo could barely keep up with all the things he wanted to say, but when he sensed that Ryo was genuinely interested in something, he slowed down and took the time to explain.   
  
Nightfall found them in a cozy restaurant a few hundred feet off ground level. Ryo had just finished eating, so he simply sat sipping his wine, listening to Touma meticulously dishing out the weaknesses of the Japanese healthcare system. Normally Ryo wouldn't be interested in such things, but this was important to them both.   
  
Ryo said something in agreement with what Touma had just said. Touma listened quietly, then in the end simply said, "Hm."   
  
"...What?" Ryo blinked. Had he said something stupid?   
  
"You agreeing with me." Touma turned his attention to his glass of white wine. "It's kind of cute."   
  
_Cute?_  Was that the sort of thing old friends said to each other while discussing healthcare...?   
  
Maybe old friends who'd had a bit too much to drink, Ryo said to himself. Although Touma was just on his first glass, and definitely looked sober. Ryo was just on his first glass too, but what was this warm feeling creeping up the sides of his neck and face?   
  
He couldn't possibly be blushing. Although Shuu had warned him once that since he was a non-drinker, his face had a tendency to flush red with the first real rush of alcohol in his system. That must just be it.   
  
Touma was distracted by a thought, and frowning down at the wine glass in his hand. In the meantime Ryo looked around uncomfortably. He found two finely-dressed young girls at another table staring in their direction and whispering to each other, faces aglow with giggles.   
  
Great. An audience. He probably just blushed a bit more. Ryo desperately tried not to look at anyone else for the time being, Touma included.   
  
He cleared his throat. "You know, Seiji's still writing."   
  
He felt Touma's eyes on him suddenly. The mention of Seiji's name out of the blue had a tendency to produce that effect.   
  
"When he's able," Ryo continued. "He asks me for a pen and that notebook he's always scribbling in. Never shows me what he's working on, though."   
  
"He wants to bring that Sengoku-era story of his to a close," Touma explained. "Sometimes he writes, in the middle of the night, instead of sleeping. I've been trying to tell him to leave off it and focus on getting better, but he's impossible." His voice had just shifted gear to "neutral" again, Ryo noticed. "He says he doesn't have time."   
  
Ryo shouldn't have opened up the topic. Should've agreed with something else that Touma had said.   
  
"Maybe he has a point," Ryo ventured.   
  
"No," Touma said coldly. "No, Ryo, he doesn't. He'll get through this. And  _then_  he can finish his story."   
  
They weren't going to fight about this. Ryo had to physically restrain himself from saying something contrary, because it was already clear that Touma was upset, or was in denial about being upset.   
  
But another glass of wine more and he was sure he was going to cave. It seemed he and Touma only ever mentioned Seiji in each other's presence if it was to report on how Seiji was doing and to talk about how to better care for him; this was the  _safe_  way to talk about him. But when certain issues were brought up, and the walls went up around Touma again, Ryo felt the desire to break down those walls bubbling up inside him like molten lava.   
  
_Do you see what's happening to Seiji? Really_  see?  _When was the last time you were home and with him long enough to stop writing in those damn charts and_ ask _him how he's doing?_   
  
Those were unfair questions. Touma and Seiji shared a room, and what did Ryo know about what happened behind closed doors? Maybe Touma didn't just study or sleep or eat at home, maybe he talked to Seiji too. Maybe he spared a thought for how forlorn Seiji looked whenever he left for his next errand or appointment. Ryo just wasn't around the two of them together long enough to notice.   
  
"Ryo," Touma said, voice devoid of hostility, after a very long pause. "There's actually... another way."   
  
"Another way?" Ryo repeated dumbly. What was Touma talking about this time?   
  
Touma rested his elbows on the table and linked his hands before his face, the way he did on that day when his friends came together at his apartment and thought about how to help.   
  
"I've been trying to focus on medicine... to cut the disease down at the root, so that Seiji can go back to living normally, just like the rest of us. But all on my own, medical research takes much too long, and the longer it takes..." Touma found it difficult to continue, so he simply ended it there. "...the longer it takes."   
  
Ryo met Touma's gaze head-on and tried to read every emotion there. The only one he could pick up on was a reluctant sort of honesty.   
  
"Some time ago, you asked me why I never contacted you. It wasn't just because Seiji didn't want me to. That other way I mentioned... it's..."   
  
Ryo waited - but the longer he did, the less Touma seemed inclined to continue talking. And waiting was never Ryo's strong suit. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well. "What is it, Touma? Tell me."   
  
Touma seemed to withdraw from Ryo's nearness. He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. After a sigh the expression his face shifted from "beleaguered" to "distant."   
  
This wasn't how Ryo had hoped the day would end.   
  
"Forget it." Touma signaled for the bill. "It's late. Let's just go home."   
  
  
  
  
  
The apartment was dark and quiet when they got back. Seiji must be sleeping, Touma whispered to him.   
  
_"Tadaima,"_  Touma still said softly at the door. Ryo had long ago recognized it for a ritual, though he had never figured Touma to be one for rituals.   
  
Touma abandoned the shopping bags in Ryo's care, while he took his shoes off and made his way to the bedroom. Dutifully, Ryo hauled the bags to the couches at the center of the room, then started segregating them by which closet they were going to end up in.   
  
He couldn't get very far with that, however.   
  
"Ryo."   
  
Something in the tone of Touma's voice got Ryo dropping the bag he held and racing to the doorway - where Touma already stood, eyes bright with fear.   
  
"He's not breathing."   
  
  
  
  
  
It all seemed to happen in a rush. The next thing Ryo knew, he was bundling Seiji up in blankets, then he was easing himself into the back of Touma's car, Seiji still in his arms. Touma was issuing hurried instructions in his calmest possible voice. Then Ryo blinked, and he was running down a hospital corridor with Touma, watching uselessly as Touma whispered words of encouragement to a very still and ashen form on a gurney being rushed by people in white from the emergency room to surgery.   
  
Then the doors were shut. And he and Touma were alone in the waiting room.   
  
Then all the calm that drove Touma on earlier had fled him.   
  
Ryo took a seat beside him. Though the hospital had eventually acknowledged Touma's qualifications as a medical doctor (it was hard to make them believe it, with Touma looking as young as he did), Touma was still refused entry into surgery. The best he could do, before he was confined to the waiting room with Ryo, was to advise the physicians scheduled to attend to Seiji's post-surgery care, with information about Seiji's medications and other routines.   
  
He was very, very insistent that after surgery - if it was successful - Seiji had to be in a private room with a window, and that the shades had to be open.   
  
It all happened so fast, Ryo himself had a hard time processing it. The people at the hospital did not know Seiji OR Touma at all. Seiji had no records at this hospital, which was the nearest good one to Touma's apartment, and while some of the doctors  _had_  heard of Touma by name and could confirm his identity, none of them knew him personally.   
  
Was this really the first time Seiji had entered a hospital in this part of Tokyo? Did that mean he had been under Touma's care all this time?   
  
"This shouldn't have happened," Touma said under his breath. His face was in his hands. "If I'd only been home - "   
  
"Don't." Ryo laid a hand on his shoulder.   
  
Touma stood, not so subtly shrugging Ryo's hand off as he did. Ryo found himself sitting up straight, his gaze focused on Touma's back as if everything important in the world was going to take place there.   
  
"You," Touma said to him, without looking directly at him. "Did you change the dosage of the active drug two days ago, like I told you to?"   
  
"Yes." Ryo's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"   
  
"His bronchial passages shouldn't have stopped up." Touma's hand brushed the hair back from his face repeatedly in broad strokes; a nervous habit. One he did not lose himself enough to display very often. It kept falling back over his eyes anyway. "I increased the formulation of the active drug to make sure of that  _specifically._  If you didn't change the dose, or if you'd forgotten to give it to him this morning -"   
  
_"I didn't,"_  Ryo said loudly, getting on his feet. They were the only two people in the room, but even if they weren't, Ryo wouldn't have cared.   
  
Touma seemed as if he didn't much care either. His eyes were hard and bright.   
  
"Ryo, do you know - do you even have an  _idea_  - how important it is for Seiji not to miss his medications?"   
  
"Of course I do." Ryo stepped up to Touma. "I'm there, remember? I take care of him too.  _I know._ "   
  
Seiji hadn't missed taking his medicines that day. Or on the days before. Ryo had seen to it. He might have missed some of Seiji's doses once, twice at the most, during his first weeks living in with Seiji and Touma - but since then it had become as part of his daily routine as it was Seiji's. Of course he knew how important Seiji's medication was.   
  
_"What do you know?"_  Screaming now, wild-eyed, mere inches and a lifetime away.  _"What do you know?_ I'm _the one who's going to lose him, not you!"_   
  
Ryo felt his own heart stop when those words struck home.   
  
What Touma was saying was terrible to hear.   
  
It must have shown on his face. Touma looked at Ryo, and whatever else he might have wanted to say stopped dead before it could leave his throat.   
  
The look on Touma's face. That cornered, helpless look. It made Ryo wanted to step forward and punch his lights out.   
  
Or to pull Touma into his arms and call him stupid and tell him Seiji was going to make it.   
  
But even if Ryo saw both scenarios clearly in his head, neither of it came true. Touma was faster than he was, always faster. He brushed past Ryo on his way out of the waiting room, in long, quick strides.


	7. Chapter 7

Touma didn't come back for days.   
  
On top of that, he was incommunicado. Every so often Ryo was at the pay phone, only to hear the automatic response saying Touma's mobile was off or unreachable.   
  
Only Touma's recorded voice message greeted him whenever he called the apartment.  _"This is Hashiba. I'm not home right now. If it's important, I'll get back to you."_   
  
Ryo didn't know what he was still expecting.   
  
He would call the apartment to leave updates on Seiji's condition, hoping Touma would come back to check the messages on his phone. But no one ever picked up, and sometimes Ryo found himself hanging up the receiver with a bang.    
  
Seiji was in intensive care. He still wasn't conscious, and couldn't breathe on his own even if the blockage in his airways had been cleared. The doctors said it was a good thing they got to Seiji in time, and Touma was able to administer emergency care before they got him to the hospital. If all that hadn't happened, Seiji would have certainly stopped breathing for good.   
  
The doctors said a lot of other things. Things that Touma would have understood and remembered better, if he had been there. But Ryo was all on his own.   
  
He'd already called Shuu and Shin. They both needed a day or two to fix their personal affairs, and then they were coming over. Both had promised that they could stay and relieve Ryo at the hospital if he needed to rest.   
  
Until then, he needed to be here.   
  
Why did it have to be just them? Ryo asked himself this for the nth time. Didn't Seiji have family, other friends, who knew about his condition?   
  
If he did, Touma never told Ryo about them, or even gave him a way to reach them. There was only one number Ryo could call in case of emergency: his. And he wasn't picking up.   
  
Maybe, Ryo realized, he was still angry.   
  
The morning found Ryo sleepless, seated on one of the sofa chairs in the waiting room outside the ICU, the accusation from a few nights ago still ringing in his head.   
  
Worse yet, he saw Touma in his mind's eye - the look on his face, just before he turned away. Hurt. Panicked. And so very, very lost.   
  
No matter how many times the scene replayed in Ryo's head, he couldn't find betrayal or resentment there. He wished he could, so he could hate Touma properly, knowing that he was hated first.   
  
...Then again, hate was never really on his end of the equation, and he had to wonder why. It was all right if Touma hated him. But he could never hate Touma.   
  
It was just that the words still tore into him.   
  
He was slumped in a sofa chair, head tilted back and eyes closed, when he heard someone approach. The clicking of high heels on the hospital floor tiles made his heart sink; it was perhaps a doctor or a nurse.   
  
"Sanada-san?"   
  
Ryo opened his eyes. Standing near him was a tall, long-legged beauty in a business suit, straight black hair done up in a neat bun. Ryo would have figured her for another stranger if he had not seen her face, the fine jawline and cheekbones and of course the distinctive violet eyes. On impulse, he stood to acknowledge her arrival.   
  
"I wonder if you remember me." She folded her long-fingered hands on her lap and bowed with a slow formality. "My name is Date Yayoi. I am Seiji's older sister."   
  
  
  
  
She was often away in university, was what Ryo remembered. He must have seen her only once, when he and his friends dropped by Seiji's house to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. She happened to be home and visibly displeased whenever one of them happened to cross her path.   
  
She was lovely (but everyone in Seiji's family had that sort of predisposition) and unfailingly polite... but she smiled very rarely, had her nose in the air all the time.   
  
Even for someone like Date Yayoi, who fought to keep her poise at all times, medical school was a taxing affair.    
  
"Oneesan is like that to people she doesn't know," Seiji had said by way of explanation. "She's also stressed out from exams, and that means she hates everybody right now."   
  
Ryo felt she was exactly the same woman who had intimidated him the first time he saw her. Only this time she was smaller than he was, and she looked much, much older. But she must only be around 30 years old.   
  
He bowed slightly to her in response. "Yayoi-san," he greeted. "It's been a while." He couldn't muster the energy to seem lively as he said that. Then again, the situation didn't exactly call for his usual effervescence.   
  
Yayoi nodded simply. She looked around. "Is Hashiba-san here?" she asked.    
  
Ryo clamped his lips together and shook his head.   
  
"I see." She seemed honestly disappointed. "I received a call from him early this morning saying only that Seiji was at this hospital. I took a leave at my own hospital and headed here. I was hoping I could speak with Hashiba-san."   
  
"He..." Ryo glanced past Yayoi, over her shoulder. Some part of him was perhaps hoping Touma would miraculously appear within his line of sight upon his name being called by someone else. But no such luck. "I think... he had some urgent business to attend to. I'm waiting for him, too."   
  
She nodded again. "If it is not an imposition, would it be all right if I waited with you?"   
  
It was all right, of course. She was family. He only warned her that he didn't know when Touma was coming back, and she only said it was all right, and sat down.   
  
And truth be told, Ryo was glad for her presence here. It meant Touma had not left him as alone as he had feared.   
  
  
  
  
He wanted to ask her so many things. He wanted to know, for example, if Touma had by some chance told her where he had gone. And how long they had been corresponding. And if she had an idea why Touma would not even think about mentioning her to Ryo. Did Seiji know that  _she_  would know? Was he aware that she would be here at this moment?   
  
But Ryo felt he was not in a position to trouble her with his questions - sitting as she did in a separate sofa chair, leaning forward at a practiced angle, head held high and deep in her own thoughts. Seiji would look like that when he was on edge.   
  
Even if he wasn't going to come in with questions, he had to say something.   
  
"Yayoi-san."   
  
Those pensive violet eyes turned toward him.   
  
"...I'm sorry you had to find out like this."   
  
She regarded him for a second. Then her lips curved upward into a half-smile - a mirthless obligation. "Please don't apologize," she said to him. "I already knew."   
  
Ryo blinked. Well, that was one question answered. Clearly she and Touma had been talking for a while now. Otherwise, he imagined, her perfect face would betray displeasure. Perhaps even resentment.   
  
"Hashiba-san must not have told you." She looked away. "We have an... arrangement, he and I. He would keep me apprised on the state of my brother's health, and I would keep the details a secret from the rest of our family. Hashiba-san has promised that I will always know of any important developments, and he has kept this promise so far."   
  
Ryo's eyes widened as the last sentence left her lips. She knew?   
  
"I see that you were not told a lot of things." Her voice had a light teasing lilt, which was charming in light of how formal she seemed to be out of habit. But it quickly vanished as she spoke again. "Seiji no longer goes home to our family's house in Sendai. Five years ago, my brother declared his intention to leave the dojo. Since then he has not even visited, and I am the only bridge between him and our family. Any communication that occurs between anyone from the Date family and Seiji, goes through me. That means our family does not know he is very ill, and growing worse by the day."   
  
"But... why?"   
  
Her eyes narrowed slightly; her way of asking him to continue.   
  
"Why would Seiji keep something like this a secret from his own family? What he's sick of - it's not embarrassing, and it's not his fault. I don't -" Ryo took a deep breath. But that did little to help his eloquence. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just don't get it."   
  
Her face took on a look, then, that almost seemed like pity.   
  
"Then you do not know my brother very well, Sanada-san."   
  
The times when amusement crept into her voice always caught Ryo off-guard. While it seemed that she was teasing him, it also seemed like she was berating him; it was a tactic that confused him thoroughly. And briefly he wondered how Seiji was ever able to cope with almost a lifetime of this.   
  
Still, Ryo could not help but feel honored. She did not seem to be the type of person who would let down her guard. She spoke of this personal thing about her brother with her walls still up - but that she spoke of them at all meant a great deal.   
  
"My brother left the dojo not because he wanted to, but because he could no longer perform his duties there. He could no longer move his body as well as he had used to. He attributed it to age and disuse, not to illness... but no matter which excuse he chose, he knew it would not be... proper. For him to stay on as the dojo's heir."   
  
_Proper._  It was a word Ryo had never gotten used to. He knew his father despised the word, but he knew precious little of how the word affected him personally. It was only in moments like this that he got an idea.   
  
"It pained Seiji to leave," Yayoi continued. "We all knew this. He loved kendo. He was going to take over the dojo from our mother, when he graduated from university. But our dojo could not afford a master who was not well enough to demonstrate, and he could not stay watching other young people doing things he could not."   
  
She started to talk about a letter that Seiji had addressed to his maternal grandparents. It was a clear and concise letter. It said Seiji's passion still lay with kendo, but he felt his life's purpose was in bringing joy and knowledge to other people through writing. And because his writing was unrelated to kendo, and his focus may be impaired by his duties at the dojo, he thought it best to pursue his own path first of all by letting go of his duties, and leaving home.   
  
...At least, this was the official reason. In a household where having an official reason was almost as important than having a real one, Seiji's family accepted his letter, and allowed him to leave.   
  
Yayoi fell silent. Behind her clear violet eyes lay three decades' worth of memories without words. Ryo could only watch her, seeing in her quietness a side of Seiji he hardly knew about. He saw how Seiji had sacrificed so much, for example, for the sake of honor - his own and his family's. He saw how proud Seiji really was, how he was ready to die with that pride.   
  
If it were just words, it would not be enough; it would not make sense to Ryo at all. What was pride in the face of loneliness and death? Where would the honor be in suffering all by yourself, when there were so many who cared about you?   
  
To hell with honor. Where was the  _justice_  in it?   
  
But it was not all words. There was the slouch Yayoi had failed to guard herself against, the melancholy bow of her head. The bitter, conditioned acceptance, that this was all  _proper_  and therefore worth it.   
  
"Seiji was always the knight in shining armor," Yayoi said softly. "All of a sudden, to become the one who needs saving..."   
  
Ryo thought her voice broke then. Just a little. Just enough. But she covered her mouth with her hand and turned away before Ryo could see genuine hurt flash across her face. It took a while before she could turn back to him, and when she did Ryo thought he saw in her eyes an apology, a plea not to be asked to speak.   
  
So for the rest of that day, he asked no more questions. And he imagined that in-between the few other words that they exchanged, she was grateful.   
  
  
  
  
  
That night, Seiji opened his eyes.   
  
It was no less than a miracle, the doctors said. They had been anticipating that his lungs and heart would continue to fail, considering how stressed and weakened they were from the last ordeal.   
  
But he was awake. And his vitals were holding strong. He was responding well to treatment, and soon he could head home.   
  
When Ryo and Yayoi were allowed to see him, he was already in a private ward. As per Touma's directive, the hospital staff placed Seiji in a ward with a large window facing east, and drew the shades, so that light would flood his room at dawn. He had even thanked them, in a small voice from a throat still recovering from the presence of the large tube that had been helping him breathe.   
  
But the sky outside the hospital was dark. It wasn't just nighttime; it was raining. The rain fell steadily in the absence of wind. Years of being outdoors told him it was the kind of rain that lasted until morning, though Ryo hoped that this time, he was wrong.   
  
The doctors were up front about their puzzlement, and even Yayoi, who specialized in internal medicine, admitted to being stumped as well; Seiji had recovered too quickly. They were not prepared for him to give up, but they were not prepared for him to win, either. From the brink of death, and a three-day coma... but of course, they weren't going to question miracles.   
  
The first thing Seiji asked, when they had rushed to his bedside, was "Touma...?" and Ryo understood it mostly from the movement of his lips, not the sound of his voice.   
  
Ryo looked away briefly. "I don't know." But he had to meet Seiji's gaze again when he assured him that "I'll find him."   
  
Anxiety fell like a shadow over Seiji's face. How he could still worry about someone else, after what he had just gone through?   
  
Ryo noticed how bright his friend's eyes were, how alive. He was still thin, still pale, but there was color in his cheeks again after so long - although it might just have been a trick of the electric lights. It was late, and Ryo had been sleepless for three days, and happy, and maybe he wasn't seeing things right.   
  
Yayoi held her brother's right hand, his writing hand. Seiji's fingers wrapped around her own lightly, but with an unusual display of strength and control. Yayoi, of course, would not notice this, not having lived with him for the previous months.   
  
"Oneesan. I dreamed that..." Then he seemed to come to his senses, and realize she was not the person he should be speaking to. "Ryo, my notebook..."   
  
This wasn't normal for Seiji, this urgency. He would take the time to ask them how they were doing, how long they had been waiting, and apologize for making them wait long no matter their answer. If indeed all was well.   
  
"My notebook, and a pen." He propped his elbows on the bed, tried to raise himself and sit up without a backrest. "I need..."   
  
Ryo quickly laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, keeping him from straining himself further.   
  
"I'll get it," Ryo assured him in a whisper. "Rest. You've got to."   
  
Seiji slowly settled back down in a half-lying, half-sitting position. His hand, the one that was not holding Yayoi's hand, covered Ryo's. Ryo had wondered if the uncontrollable heat from his touch troubled Seiji, but his friend's face relaxed, and he seemed to sink less into the bed as into that touch, as if nestling into something warm.   
  
"Any kind of paper will do, for now," Yayoi said to Ryo. "I will stay here with my brother. Sanada-san, you must rest, too."   
  
Ryo was about to protest. He wasn't tired. Seeing Seiji had energized him. He wanted to stay. He wanted to find Touma, as he promised. Right now he felt like he could do anything.   
  
Then Yayoi smiled up at him. That smile was not an obligation, and it was impossible to resist.   
  
"Seiji is awake," she gently said. "It is time for you to sleep."   
  
Seiji's hand slid from Ryo's. "Go," he whispered wearily, looking up at him.   
  
  
  
  
Reluctant as he was to leave, Ryo knew Yayoi was right. He needed to eat a proper meal, take a proper shower, and lie in a proper bed. Tired or not, three days of the hospital's various antiseptic smells had accumulated on his person. In his mind, it made him smell like a battlefield.   
  
First thing in the morning, he was going to change into proper clothes and return to the hospital. Yayoi might want to go back to work, or might at least want to rest, if she was staying until Seiji was ready to check out.   
  
Ryo made up his mind that he was going to offer to show Yayoi to the apartment, so she could have a bathroom to use and a bed to sleep on - although he wasn't sure if Touma would like that, being the way he was about other people knowing their business. He wasn't sure if Yayoi still counted as "other people."   
  
But he couldn't afford to keep worrying about what Touma would think.   
  
It was still raining when he stepped out of the hospital. Home was just a bus ride away, and he braced himself for that long journey. He folded his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders against the wet and the cold.   
  
Then, as he was about to leave the shade, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He looked up to see a man with an umbrella walking across the hospital parking lot, toward him.   
  
"...Shin!"   
  
A smile in response, clearly visible in the distance. Ryo stopped before the first raindrop could hit him, and waited for his friend to approach.   
  
"Where are  _you_  off to?" When Shin was relaxed, his voice had a chiding lilt to it, as if nothing at all was wrong anywhere in the world. Ryo could only ever find that refreshing.   
  
Shin stopped a few paces away from Ryo, standing in the rain with his umbrella, not caring in the least if the droplets bouncing off the ground was soaking his shoes and the hem of his overcoat.   
  
"I'm on my way back to the apartment," Ryo answered. "You can go on up and see him if you want. He's awake."   
  
"He is?" Shin looked for a moment like he might dash into the hospital, straight out of the rain. But instead he looked up at the windows of the hospital, as if he already had an idea which one of them Seiji was behind. "That's good! Is he with Touma now?"   
  
"No, with his sister. I don't know where Touma is."   
  
This must not have been a pleasant thing to hear. Shin's eyebrows rose, then he frowned, tilted his head slightly to one side. The expression on his face seemed to ask if it was all right for Touma to be gone, and if Ryo was all right with that.   
  
Ryo only sighed and smiled apologetically.   
  
There were times when it seemed to Ryo that his life was made up of snapshots. Touma asleep on the couch. Seiji tending to his bonsai. All of them, as teenagers, lying on the grass beside each other, facing up at the cloudy sky on a cool day.   
  
And now here's Shin. Standing in the rain with one hand in his coat pocket, and the other holding up an umbrella, face poised to change expression. Ryo didn't know why it was important that he would remember this moment, this scene, but there was hardly ever a reason.   
  
"I'll go with you back to the apartment." It was a declaration, not a request. Shin stepped up into the shade close to Ryo, held his umbrella over both his friend's head and his own. "We can take my car."


	8. Chapter 8

"Shuu and I were supposed to meet up before coming here," was the first thing Shin disclosed, as he started the car. "But at the last minute, one of his sisters called and said he couldn't come. He was sick."

"Eh? Shuu's sick?!" Shuu was never sick. Whenever he caught a fever he worked up a sweat and then rested so his skin would cool. He took pride in never having to see a doctor for any illness in his entire young life.

Shin shrugged. "Sick enough not to come here, even if he really wanted to. He was fine when we talked over the phone about coming here, though." They turned a corner. Shin continued in a slightly quieter voice, "I asked, but Rinfi didn't give any details. She just said he's very sorry, and he's instructed her to wire us the money we need for Seiji's hospitalization. One of us just needs to tell her how much."

"Didn't he call you up himself?" Ryo asked - because Shuu would do that, even at his sickest.

Shin shook his head thoughtfully.

During the brief silence, it occurred to Ryo to ask, for the sheer sake of asking, if maybe Shuu had not wanted to come. But he stopped himself.

It was nowhere near the right thing to say.

Though unable to visit most of the time because of family responsibilities, Shuu called the apartment now and then - to check up on all of them, to talk to Ryo about the money he insisted on sending, and to speak to Seiji himself if circumstances permitted it. He always sounded positive, even as he said things that were already depressing for him - things like "hang in there" or "it just doesn't get any easier, huh?"

But thinking back to that day they all got together at Touma's apartment, Ryo remembered Shuu was the one who had asked if what was happening to Seiji, was going to happen to the rest of them. It was impossible to read the expression on his face, then. Fear was nowhere except in the quietness of his voice as he spoke.

Touma had made it clear then: No. Seiji's affliction was his alone. And Shuu had only nodded grimly.

To even consider that Shuu might not want to see Seiji at a time like this felt strange. Ryo knew in his heart that Shuu would want to race out the door as soon as he heard the news.

They were near the apartment now. It wasn't a very long drive. There was only enough time to change the subject once. "Ryo," Shin began, "what really happened to Seiji? What did the doctors say?"

"I'm not sure I get it," Ryo confessed. "But from what I remember, Seiji stopped breathing for a long time. They sounded like it was to be expected, because his lungs were already barely functioning. He shouldn't have survived it, but he did." Ryo looked away. "They called it a miracle."

"A miracle." He heard the smile in Shin's voice. "I wonder what Touma would have to say about that..."

Ryo did, too. But it was best to shut up about Touma, for the moment. He was grateful Shin didn't ask.

"Ryo... when Seiji was at the hospital. Did you tell him anything?"

Ryo knew what Shin meant. He didn't answer. He wasn't allowed to visit Seiji too long while he was in intensive care.

For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to speak while he stood beside Seiji's bed. A hundred goodbyes went through him, and none of them left his lips. It just didn't feel right to be the only one standing there. To be the only one who had anything to say.

"I've been thinking about what I would say to him. If he wasn't going to wake up." Shin sighed. "But forget about that. Everything will be fine now, right?"

Ryo looked out the window, at the steady rainfall that looked like it wasn't going to end anytime that night.

"Yeah," he numbly answered.

 

 

  
He didn't know why he was expecting to see Touma's shoes at the entrance to the apartment. They weren't there, of course. 

There were a couple of other things missing: an umbrella from the rack, for example - the dark blue one, the one he most frequently used. Also missing were Touma's car keys, which he often carelessly left on the countertop by the dining room, instead of anywhere safe. 

What  _was_  there was Touma's suitcase, the old frayed canvas one, which was stuffed with hastily scribbled medical notes. Ryo frowned. It seemed Touma wasn't headed for any of the laboratories where he worked on Seiji's medicine - otherwise he would have brought that suitcase along.

So where was he?

"You don't have any messages," Shin pointed out. The phone was his first destination. "Someone must've checked the machine recently."

"Or nobody called," Ryo suggested. "Everyone knows Touma's cell phone number. The landline hardly gets used, except when you guys call."

Shin was about to say something about Shuu, and how he might have tried to leave a message. It might have gotten deleted if someone had checked the machine while Ryo was out of the house, he was about to suggest. But Ryo was already disappearing into the large bedroom that Touma and Seiji shared. 

When he emerged, a short while later, it was with a puzzled look on his face. "...It's not here."

Shin looked at him. He had passed the time waiting for Ryo by looking out at the lights of the cityscape, slightly blurred by the night and the rain. "What's not here?"

"Seiji's notebook. It was in their room..." He walked past Shin on the way to the kitchen, looking around all the way.

Shin looked around as well. The largeness of the living space hit him again, like it did the first time he set foot in it, just a few weeks ago. This apartment was really a good find, but too big for just two people to share.

A heavy feeling came over him, as he remembered that Touma and Seiji had been living together for around five years, in this large, sad place.

If one of them was gone... how could the remaining one continue to live here alone?

Ryo was giving the place another sweep. Shin got the bright idea to look outside the apartment. He stepped out into the balcony, which was by this time mostly wet from the rain. Thankfully the notebook wasn't anywhere there.

But there was still the greenhouse.

"Ryo," Shin called as he made his way back into the apartment. "Is this it?" He closed the glass door to the balcony behind him.

Shin handed Ryo a hardbound notebook. It looked to be dry and in one piece, and was exactly what Ryo had been looking for.

"It was in the greenhouse," Shin reported. "Maybe Seiji left it there?"

Ryo shook his head. "I remember it was on the bedstand when we took him to the hospital..."

"Can anyone else enter here?"

"As far as I know, only Touma and I have copies of the key... and we locked up before we left."

"So I guess Touma did come back and -"

Shin stopped himself. Ryo had frowned, put the hand that held the notebook back down to his side. Shin sensed that Touma's name had just popped up one too many times.

"Thanks for finding it," Ryo muttered.

"Hey, we're not taking it to Seiji tonight, are we?" Shin said, to try and lighten the mood. "It's almost past visiting hours. It's raining. And best of all, the bags under your eyes look heavier than your head."

"He was asking for this," Ryo started to counter, holding the notebook up again. Shin laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"Keep it safe for him," he said, pushing the notebook and the warm hand that held it, back against Ryo's chest. "Just for tonight."

 

 

  
Sleep didn't come easy for Ryo, even after a meal cooked by Shin (five stars, of course, even if in his words it was "just something he whipped up") and a long hot bath.

He wondered exactly what was keeping him awake - if it was the fact that he hadn't dropped off the notebook at the hospital as he was asked, or if it was the fact that he was being forced to sleep in Touma's bed.

As the one who wasn't technically staying in the apartment, Shin had the privilege of being granted the guest room, the one that Ryo used while he was staying there. Ryo interpreted that to naturally mean he got the couch, but Shin wouldn't hear of it.

"You're sleeping somewhere comfortable tonight," he'd insisted. "There are three western-style beds in this house. Two of them are in the same big room. You're taking one of them, or I am, or we're taking both."

In the end, Ryo relented. Shin could be a real force of nature when he was in his element, and "in his element" meant three things: around water, in a domicile such as this, and in the company of his childhood friends. Ryo didn't stand a chance.

It was still better to let Shin have the guest room, even if it had all of Ryo's things in it; if anyone was going to stay in Touma and Seiji's room, it had to be Ryo. It would just feel like less of an imposition that way. The smell of medicine over everything was something Shin was not yet used to.

Ryo looked over at the empty bed beside the one he was lying on. He had seen Seiji asleep a number of times, but at that moment he tried to imagine how he would look like from this angle. From where Touma slept.

Again, his photographer's mind was working. Scenes and still shots from his imagination threw some light and color into the emptiness. 

Seiji looked so much weaker. So much more frightening to watch, with his thin chest barely rising and falling as he tried to rest. At any moment, he could stop breathing here. At any given time he could open his eyes, look over and smile and say "Good morning" in that low voice that had broken hearts before.

He couldn't help but think back to those nights when he heard Seiji waking up catching his breath, Touma saying words of soothing and encouragement in a voice that sounded weary and at the same time at the edge of panic. The perpetual silence of the apartment made the walls seem paperthin.

And then, he couldn't help himself from imagining how the world would look like from the view of Seiji's bed - "the world" being the ceiling, the window by the bed Ryo was lying in, and Touma. 

He would be lying here now, if all was well. Maybe he would be awake but on his side, poring through his notes with that familiar look of concentration. The lamp on the bedstand between the two beds would be on. He would be wearing his reading glasses, his downward-turned eyes stubbornly squinting behind them.

Maybe it wouldn't be his notes he would be reading. Maybe it would be a detective novel, if he still had time for those. Or one of the books Seiji had written. He'd have the sense not to read against the light.

The light wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe it was actually the darkness of this unfamiliar room that felt so oppressive. Ryo reached over to turn the lamp on. As he did he noticed Seiji's notebook on the bedstand.

That's right - he'd left it here, because this was its rightful place. Moreover, he wouldn't forget to bring it to Seiji if it was one of the first things he saw upon waking up.

Ryo reached for the bedstand again, but for the notebook this time. Seiji had warned Ryo and Touma that it wasn't ready to be read yet, it was still a work in progress.

Ryo grunted. What, he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of his "fans"? Well yeah, Seiji would be that proud...

But he never  _explicitly_  said that he didn't want Ryo or Touma to read it, right...?

There was no room for hesitation. No one was looking. And Ryo probably wouldn't understand what was going on in it, since he hadn't even finished reading up to the latest installment.

He just wanted to see.

 

  


_The general was tired. But there was still such a long way to go, down this strange and narrow path. And he had never felt so tired in his young life._

 _There was no one else on this path. He could no longer remember when he left for this path, with no one to remember for him. Had it been weeks? months? years? His past had become a vague memory - his family, his friends, his country, a distant dream._

 _But he still had his armor. He would not abandon it - not the thing that had carried him so far. Not the thing that bore marks that reflected his battle scars, and carried his history, the history of his clan, and the history of his lord. But on this path, it behaved strangely. The longer he wore it, the more it weighed on him. The harder it was for him to walk._

 _Still, he walked, fueled with the faith that his armor would bring him to the end of this journey, as it had brought him to the end of all long roads. And he had to reach the end of this. He knew, somehow, that if he did, the darkness too would come to an end. And when that happened, he would be allowed to have one wish._

 _He knew what that wish would be. He repeated it to himself over and over so despair would not consume him, so he would not forget:_

 _ If the end is coming, let it only be for myself. _

_ Love, follow me not into this._

 

 _   
_

This was the last entry; one of many. Seiji's shaky but meticulously neat hand had put down notes of a similar vein: unfinished, barely coherent snippets of adventures of the heroes of the story he had been working on, the Sengoku-era one that Ryo had come to like. There were some of the kid general, the impulsive feudal lord, the loud but good-hearted captain of the guard and the quietly eccentric seafaring admiral.

Most of the snippets involved the young general. And reading those entries, Ryo realized that the whole thing seemed more like a dream journal than a work of fiction. 

So there was a reference to "love" - who was that? In the Sengoku-era novels, there were some remarkable women (among the more notable ones being the Lady Naoko, a respected doctor, and the Lady Ayame, the misguided assassin) and certainly the young heroes had potential love interests... but as far as Ryo had read, genuine attachments had not yet been formed. The love stories were for side characters; the heroes were too busy keeping their people safe to bother with such things.

Ryo didn't know how novels worked. Maybe this collection of snippets was going to come together into something that made sense. Maybe many of the snippets would not see publication.

And if it was nothing but a dream journal after all - what would Seiji write on it this time? Why did he ask for this notebook right after -

(Right after asking for Touma, he said to himself. He was still upset about that: Touma wasn't there for Seiji when he woke up.)

What did he dream about, during those three days he slept?

Dream journal or not, it was still a good read. Ryo found himself reading through each entry. But weariness reminded Ryo of its existence and before he knew it, he was already nodding off.

He deposited the notebook on the bedstand. Then he turned off the lamp and sank back into bed.

His last thought, before he surrendered to sleep at last, was how strange it was to be in this room, which smelled the most strongly of Seiji's medicines, with all the images he had invented still fresh in his head - and how strange it was to find himself falling asleep on this bed, on the pillow that still held the scent of Touma's hair.

 

  


In the morning, Ryo called the hospital. The attending physician came to the phone and told him that Seiji was recovering at a rapid rate, and was asking if he could be allowed to leave later that day.

The physician mentioned that he had asked Seiji to stay over for tests; they wanted to find out how he was able to recover from the brink of death (pardon the phrase, he said to Ryo: there was just no medical term that would describe it so well) so quickly. Seiji had refused. Then there was nothing to discuss, Ryo had said. After a long pause, the physician had sighed loudly in frustration and agreed. Clearly he had been through a similar discussion before, most probably with Date Yayoi.

Seiji was getting discharged in the afternoon. Over breakfast, Shin and Ryo discussed how best to bring him home. There was Shin's car, but if Yayoi had a car as well, hers might be the better option. It was a good time to welcome her into the apartment, if it was going to be her first time there - and even if it wasn't, they owed her some hospitality.

Shin listened quietly, fingers linked together loosely in front of his lips, as Ryo laid out the facts: he had tried calling Touma's mobile a number of times before breakfast, and all he got was the voice mail. It looked like they would have to bring Seiji home without Touma, and the doctors' questions and remarks regarding Seiji's health would have to wait.

What were they going to do if Seiji had another attack, while Touma was away? What information were they going to give the doctors, so they could do their best to help Seiji get better in record time?

"Ryo," Shin said, as they pondered all these questions. "I'm leaving my car with you."

Ryo sat up. This wasn't in any of the suggested answers he was expecting. For one thing, it did not sound at all like a suggestion. "What?"

"I'm presuming a well-traveled wildlife photographer would know how to drive?" No matter how serious the discussion, trust Shin to find a way to insert a bit of snark.

"Yeah, I do, I just mean - why?"

"Touma's coming home sooner or later. And then he's going away again. When that happens, you have to follow him. Find out where he goes."

"I just have to pin him down and talk to him," Ryo argued. "What are you going to use to get around? Anyway, what makes you so sure he's going away again when he comes back? He's needed around here, now more than ever."

Shin was quiet. His brows were knitted, and his green eyes seemed darker in hue this time, almost black, as they avoided Ryo's gaze.

"I don't know exactly what's going on with him," Shin said reluctantly, "but I think I have an idea. And if I'm right, he'll never tell you. Not even if you pin him down."


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't all in Ryo's head: a touch of color seemed to have returned to Seiji's cheeks. In fact he seemed a little healthier now than he was than before he went into the hospital, if that was at all possible. His vital signs were stable and the doctors who saw him were in agreement - he was ready to go home.   
  
Seiji's hand was steady when he reached out to get the notebook that Ryo gave him. It turned out that he didn't need the notebook just yet. He'd written out whatever was in his head on the sheafs of paper the hospital had provided. There would be plenty of time to transfer it all later.   
  
"He wrote all night," Seiji's older sister reported, sounding pleased. "We barely had any time to talk." Seiji smiled at her and apologized. She had come all this way for him; they should have time to talk.   
  
"I know you're needed back at your workplace soon, but please come back to the apartment with us," he asked her. She readily agreed.   
  
Even between siblings, the air of formality could not simply be abandoned by the members of the house of Date. They talked, all the way out of the hospital. Or, rather, Yayoi spoke, and Seiji listened. There was little that Seiji wanted to say, but he wanted to hear everything. How was the family? And the dojo? How was Satsuki? Still driving Grandfather insane with her motorcycle?   
  
It wasn't because his throat still hurt from the tubes that had helped him breathe, either - his voice had noticeably lost its earlier roughness.   
  
They decided to bring Seiji back using Yayoi's car. It was roomier in the back, and decidedly fancier than Shin's. Ryo was going to ride with Yayoi and Seiji, so he could lead them to the apartment.   
  
Shin agreed easily enough to this arrangement. Truth be told, he had something else to occupy him while discussions about transport were going on. He nudged Ryo with his elbow, then gestured with a turn of his head back to the hospital grounds.   
  
A gaggle of young nurses and interns, male and female, had gathered at the entrance. When they noticed that Seiji was looking in their direction, they waved enthusiastically.   
  
Ryo raised his eyebrows. He remembered that Touma had  _specifically_  asked the hospital staff to keep Seiji's presence there low-key. He had even (nicely enough) threatened to file a lawsuit in case any of the doctors and nurses broke confidentiality and spoke to the press about Seiji's stay. This was all carefully done in Ryo's presence, so that he, too, would be able to appreciate the necessity.   
  
...Then again, who could help it if the staff wanted to see Seiji off? And if he'd agreed to hand out autographs - as Rin Koujirou, his pen name, of course - before leaving? Seiji had always been charming; this was just proof that he could draw admirers even while mostly unconscious.   
  
If anyone was bothered by all the attention, it certainly wasn't Shin. He sounded amused as he remarked "Same old Seiji."   
  
Seiji must have been used to the spotlight, too, to some degree. He raised his hand for a farewell wave that made the hospital staff beam with delight. Yayoi herself was barely able to restrain a smile as she rolled up the automatic windows, keeping Seiji safely hidden away behind dark tint.   
  
Ryo stared at Shin, hoping for a reaction that would normalize the entire scene. Chuckling, Shin shook his head and walked back to his car.   
  
  
  
  
Yayoi stayed at the living room while Shin and Seiji spoke privately. Shin had requested to have some time alone with Seiji before he returned home.   
  
She seemed relaxed, and watching her gave Ryo a sense of relief; she was a doctor herself, and if she acted like there was nothing to worry about, then Seiji must truly be in the clear.   
  
Ryo asked if there was anything that Yayoi needed - she had barely touched the cup of tea that Shin had made. There was a guest room. She had been up all night. Maybe she needed to lie down and rest?   
  
She shook her head, but thanked him for the offer. She invited him to sit with her. Ryo hesitated, but soon agreed. There was nothing much left to do now that Seiji was settled in.   
  
For a moment neither of them talked. She sat looking out the balcony, at the greenhouse specifically, not minding the stillness and the silence.   
  
Man, Ryo was bad at this. It wasn't just talking to women specifically: small talk in general made him uncomfortable. Couldn't he and Shin maybe exchange places for a bit...?   
  
"You know," she began, to spare him the agony, "this is not my first time here. But this is the first time I have been here in a while." She looked around. Ryo couldn't tell if she liked what she saw or not. "So much has changed."   
  
She continued by saying she had helped Seiji move here. This wasn't the same as when he was a child in the Yagyuu household; Seiji would be living on his own, as an adult. She had wanted to see for herself the kind of "accommmodations" that her adult brother would have. She had also wanted to make an impression on the person who wanted to be entrusted with her adult brother's health and safety.   
  
She recalled with a small laugh that she had browbeaten Touma into buying "proper" furnishings so her brother would not feel homesick (to Seiji's utter embarrassment). That was back when Touma wasn't "Dr. Hashiba" yet - barely 20 years old with his head all over the place - and she could still make him feel like crap.   
  
Since then, she said, he'd grown up. They all had. It must have taken a great deal of money and effort to build that greenhouse outside, she quietly observed; it was lovely.   
  
"Sanada-san," she said after a pause. "I saw a suitcase when we entered. I remember seeing Hashiba-san with it a number of times. May I see what is inside it now?"   
  
Ryo thought about it. "I'm... I don't know, Yayoi-san. Touma told me not to touch it. He said all his notes are in there..."   
  
"That is precisely why I want to see it," she said, with a note of insistence ringing strong and powerful under a lifetime of politeness. It was quite surprising, the way it was surprising when Seiji got emotional or upset - it felt like something that was kept in check for a good reason.   
  
She leaned forward and looked him in the eye, and Ryo found himself drawing back, drowning in pale violet. "He does not need to know, does he?"   
  
And before he knew it, he was bringing the suitcase to her. And opening it for her, and blushing when she flashed him a brilliant smile of gratitude.   
  
Suddenly he could see how Seiji could have gone through a phase when he was wary of most girls.   
  
Ryo sighed, watching Date Yayoi taking out handwritten notes carefully, sheaf by sheaf, from the suitcase. He felt he had to come up with a really good (or at least hilarious) explanation if Touma chose this precise moment to open the front door.   
  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, Shin walked out of Touma and Seiji's bedroom with his eyes downcast. He closed the door unhurriedly. Any ordinary person might have missed the anxiety on his face; he was faking nonchalance so well.   
  
But Ryo knew his childhood friends better than that. He stood up and strode toward Shin. It was his alarm that startled Date Yayoi into forgetting the notes in her hands for a moment. Her eyes as she looked up were glazed over.   
  
"He can't move his legs," Shin said quietly, in response to the question on Ryo's face.   
  
Before Ryo even understood what Shin had said, he was moving quickly toward the door. Shin held out an arm to stop him.   
  
"Don't go in there just yet." Shin seemed strangely guarded. "He doesn't want to alarm the two of you."   
  
"What do you mean, he doesn't want to alarm us?" Ryo turned to Yayoi. "That's a bad sign, isn't it?" He had been walking earlier, when he was coming home from the hospital - with the help of his cane, but walking. He even looked like he was doing  _better_ .   
  
What was all this?   
  
Seiji's older sister stood. "It means his muscles are weakening further," she muttered, still lost in her thoughts. In a louder, more present voice, she continued, "I need to see him."   
  
She stepped past Ryo toward the door, but Shin blocked her path, holding her by the shoulders at a respectful distance. "He's asked if he could... give it another try. By himself. He thinks it might have been the three days' disuse - "   
  
"Shin, we might need to take him back to the hospital!" Ryo had raised his voice. By now he was sure even Seiji knew that not being alarmed was out of the question.   
  
"Please, Ryo." Shin looked at his friend. His voice was stern, and his green eyes hard. "Give him a little time."   
  
It was a stalemate, then. Seiji had recruited Shin to his side, and if Ryo was going to oppose him, he was opposing Shin as well.   
  
He was about to step forward, ready to face Shin head on, but Yayoi stepped back. Slowly, as if in a daze, she made her way back to the couch. Her shoulders were slouched, which was unusual for her.   
  
"I don't understand," she was mumbling, almost too softly for Ryo and Shin to hear. "I don't understand."   
  
The two young men watched her return to her seat, her poise only too clearly forced. She picked up some of the pieces of paper she had laid out on the table before her.   
  
"These notes..." She wasn't looking at him, or at Shin, as she spoke. "Hashiba-san's notes... they all make sense. If these are accurate, then it is true that Hashiba-san has done everything humanly possible to prevent the disease from getting worse." She dropped the pieces of paper she was holding, and seemed to fold into herself. Her hands settled on her knees, and balled into fists. "So why is this happening?"   
  
Ryo had had enough. He pushed past Shin to the door. Shin didn't pursue him, but watched him closely. Even if Ryo would not look at him, he wore a look on his face that sharply said  _Don't._   
  
Defiantly, Ryo put his hand on the doorknob.   
  
Then the landline rang.   
  
Shin was definitely not about to leave his post. Yayoi was still visibly upset. It was up to Ryo to attend to the call. Reluctantly he tore himself away from within Shin's reach to answer it.   
  
The caller ID reflected an unfamiliar number. Possibly a payphone. He let it ring a few times more before picking it up.   
  
"Who is it," he greeted.   
  
_"Ryo."_   
  
Touma. Of course, with the warped sense of timing. Ryo's hand tightened around the receiver. "Where are you?"   
  
_"I can't stay on the line long."_  Behind his exhausted monotone was the noise of light traffic: cars and trucks speeding by.  _"I got your messages. How is Seiji? Is he still in the hospital?"_   
  
"He just got out today." Fighting to keep his voice level. "He's... he's not doing too well."   
  
There was a pause. Then,  _"...What do you mean?"_  And it might have been Ryo's imagination, but he sounded just a little less than worried. Like he was faking concern, like Shin was faking lack of concern just a minute ago.   
  
That, on top of everything else that happened today, was not good for Ryo's temper.   
  
"Damn it," he blurted out, "come home. Come home and see for yourself."   
  
_"I will. I will. Just..."_  He could see Touma in his mind's eye brushing hair back from his forehead, that familiar nervous habit.  _"Tell me. I'll think about it on the way."_   
  
Ryo kept himself in check, started to say Seiji was fine when he came home, but suddenly became unable to move his legs. Then he realized he didn't know what else to say. Shin was the one who had been with Seiji when it happened.   
  
"Shin...?" Ryo called. Shin blinked impassively. He had crossed his arms over his chest, but he unraveled them when he finally decided to head to the phone and take the receiver from Ryo's hand.   
  
One last warning look, then Shin turned his back on Ryo. "Touma," he greeted coldly. Then proceeded to talk into the receiver.   
  
Shin was pointedly looking away. Yayoi was the only one watching him, and her attention was split between him and Shin. She would not be able to stop Ryo if he went in to check on Seiji now, in spite of Shin's objections.   
  
On the spot he decided he would be sorrier if he did not go through with it.   
  
Ryo took another step toward Seiji's bedroom door.   
  
Then he heard the knob turning.   
  
  
  
  
The door opened slowly. The first thing Ryo saw was Seiji's hand gripping the frame. Then the gap widened.   
  
Seiji did not have his cane. He must have felt he did not have time for it. He was pulling himself up to a standing position at the doorway with great effort, if the sweat on his skin and his shallow breathing was any indication.   
  
He was in a new  _jinbei_ , one that Touma had bought for him during his last trip downtown with Ryo. He was fully dressed for sleeping. Why the hell did Touma have to call  _now?_   
  
"Touma," he muttered with an exhale of breath. And again, "Touma!" more urgently, with another.   
  
Ryo felt rooted to the spot. Shin had stopped talking, and was staring at Seiji open-mouthed, mid-sentence. Yayoi leapt to her feet.   
  
Before anyone could say or do anything, Seiji let go of the doorframe and took a step forward, toward the phone - toward Ryo.   
  
With no strength in his legs, he fell.   
  
Ryo ran forward and went on his knees to catch him. His chest struck Ryo's chest. Seiji wasn't very heavy, but Ryo feared nonetheless that the impact caused some damage. He quickly maneuvered his own body to a sitting position and held Seiji across his lap, cradling his friend's upper body in his arms.   
  
There were no wounds, no indication of broken bones as far as Ryo could see. Seiji was intact, though his heart was beating wildly.   
  
"Touma," Seiji repeated one final time, before his breathing failed him and he had to close his eyes.   
  
Just then Shin heard a loud "click" on the other end of the line - Touma had ended the phone call in a hurry.   
  
"Seiji!!" Not knowing what else to do, Ryo held his friend more closely. Yayoi knelt by them both and pressed her fingers down on the sides of Seiji's neck, bent down to lay her ear against his chest.   
  
"T-take him back to bed," she stammered when she was done, her composure all but disintegrated. "He just lost consciousness, b-but he's breathing. An oxygen tank..."   
  
There was an oxygen tank stationed in the room Touma and Seiji slept in. Ryo didn't need to be told twice. He gathered Seiji up in his arms and rushed him back into the bedroom. He heard more than felt Shin and Yayoi following close at his heels.   
  
  
  
  
  
Soon after they were able to hook Seiji up to the tank, things seemed to take a turn for the better. Yayoi stayed by Seiji's bed, watching over him while he slept.   
  
Shin and Ryo stayed outside the room, until they heard Yayoi say Seiji was stable. Then Shin said it was high time for him to go.   
  
Touma was coming back to the apartment later that day. He had told Shin as much. That made Shin feel it was all right to return home, where he was also needed.   
  
Shin placed his car keys in Ryo's open palm. After visibly struggling to find the right words of gratitude, Ryo gave up and simply asked if it was all right to drive Shin to the train station.   
  
Shin had laughed. "I thought you'd never ask," he'd answered with a wide grin.   
  
But stepping out of the apartment meant that Ryo would have to take his leave of Yayoi. She was going to be left alone with Seiji again.   
  
And he wasn't even sure she was all right.   
  
She had assured them that she was, and when she did, her back was straight and her voice completely level. He gave her time to compose herself, as he would give Seiji time, and it turned out to be exactly what she needed.   
  
When he came back into Seiji's room, she had greeted him with a curt nod, ready to speak.   
  
"My apologies," she said carefully, softly so as not to wake Seiji. "I have... never treated a family member before. I... always imagined I would do well." The proud Date woman avoided his gaze.   
  
There was a reason why doctors were not usually allowed to treat their family members in emergency cases. It was something that Ryo, who was rarely around doctors himself, understood only now. It got him wondering how Touma was able to keep his wits about him on that night when Seiji stopped breathing.   
  
If he had been in Touma's place, what would Ryo have done? He might have freaked - or worse, struggled to keep calm, and then made one bad decision after another.   
  
It was different when Ryo had his armor.  _Not_  thinking and just plunging into the fray came to him naturally. And of course, snuffing entire armies of  _youja_  out of this dimension in order to save the world was different from saving a single human life.   
  
At times the latter could be more difficult. Especially if you care deeply about the life you've taken into your own hands.   
  
He knew that now.   
  
So Ryo did his best, in his halting fashion, to assure Date Yayoi that she had done well. She had only stuttered - that was no crime. She was able to perform her duties as a doctor still.   
  
But though she appreciated the gesture, and could look him in the eye again, it was too easy to believe that behind that pale violet wall, she was still being hard on herself.   
  
Ryo asked her if it was all right if he stepped out for a bit to take Shin to the station. She seemed thoughtful.   
  
"Sanada-san," she decided to ask just then. "How did he sound?"   
  
Ryo knew what she meant, but didn't know how to answer. Touma had sounded - far away. Distracted. Even a little sorry that he called. But there was no way for him to share such abstract thoughts with confidence.   
  
"Tired," was what he decided to be the best answer.   
  
"I see." Her features softened into a blank expression. "Then he should not find me here. There will be a better time for us to talk."   
  
Ryo understood. "I won't take long," he promised.   
  
  
  
  
What he and Shin discussed on the short drive out was limited to practical things: how much Seiji's hospitalization had cost, how much spending money Ryo had left, and how much Shin was going to tell Rinfi to wire over. Shuu wanted to foot the entire hospital bill, and as much as Ryo wanted to protest, it would be a great help.   
  
Talking like this made Ryo feel old and weary, as very few things did.   
  
They also tried talking about Touma's plans for setting up his own laboratory - namely if it was still on the table. Ryo said plainly that he did not know. Touma claimed that he went out to meet with potential investors sometimes, but never talked about any of his "appointments" in detail when he came home.   
  
"Do you believe him?" Shin asked point-blank.   
  
Ryo's answer wasn't as direct. "I trust him."   
  
Shin nodded. It was a satisfactory answer. He let the matter drop. At any rate, it was nothing the two of them could discuss only by themselves.   
  
"Listen," he said presently, "there's a place in Tokyo I could stay. I'll take a research break so I don't have to report to the office. So if you need someone to help you with Seiji... I'll just be a few stations away."   
  
"Shin," Ryo exclaimed, "you don't have to do that! I can handle it!"   
  
"Ryo," Shin calmly replied, "I want to be there for him, too."   
  
Of course. Shin had also seen for himself what was going on. That was all anyone had to do to realize how bad things were getting.   
  
It was enough to make Ryo feel guilty for ever feeling alone.   
  
Before Shin left the car, he laid a hand on Ryo's arm. "I'll contact you once I've settled in," he said, "so if you're going to do anything stupid  _again_  - call me first, all right?"   
  
"What 'again'?" Ryo laughingly shook off Shin's hand. "I didn't do anything stupid today!"   
  
Shin huffed, "You almost did! If I hadn't been there!"   
  
Ryo chuckled bitterly. Shin flashed a sad smile at him before he stepped out, and closed the passenger side door.   
  
  
  
  
There was just one place he had to go before heading home. He had promised Yayoi he wouldn't take long, and he was sure that he wouldn't.   
  
He just had to drop by. Tell the salesperson what he wanted. Pay for the thing. Then leave. There was no time to learn how the damn thing worked, or even how not to break it - but Ryo wasn't about to go back to the apartment without it in hand.   
  
Touma was coming home tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

Ryo had taken a quick look around the apartment building's parking lot to see if Touma's car was there. No luck. Anyway, it was still early. It was a good hour or two before it got dark and he would have to start worrying again.   
  
His newest purchase tucked under one arm, he made his way up to Touma and Seiji's room. As it was the afternoon, there were more people to come across. He did his best to be polite to them and not to hint that he wanted to stay and chat.   
  
It was disheartening to remember that there was no one to talk to in this city, where people didn't ask even if they wanted to know. Even if you did try to open up, they wouldn't be able to understand. It would always be something else they were more familiar with: cancer or AIDS or another rare disease they saw on TV.    
  
It reminded Ryo in a way of his time as a Trooper. People knew about the armors: they didn't know about the boys who wielded them. And they didn't care. Touma and Nasuti had warned the other boys that they dared not risk their identities getting revealed, but there was very little investigation into their identities anyway. People preferred to invent stories if they weren't spoonfed the facts.   
  
It wasn't worth being sad then, and it wasn't worth being sad now.   
  
As the elevator doors opened, he saw a familiar face.   
  
Great.   
  
Gritting his teeth and ducking his head, he boarded the elevator along with the building gossip who lived down the hall from them, whose name was Mrs. Nakajima.   
  
When he looked over at her, he saw that she was looking up at him. She nodded in greeting. He acknowledged her nod. He hoped that was the extent of their interaction, but he wasn't so lucky.   
  
"I hear you brought back that roommate of yours from the hospital today," she said with the usual acidity she'd taken on when she spoke to Ryo.   
  
Without looking at her, he replied "Yes."   
  
"I hear he's in a bad way?"   
  
Ryo didn't have to answer that one.   
  
She was silent for the rest of the skywards trip. Then when the elevator doors opened on their floor, as she stepped out she announced: "You will walk with me back to my room."   
  
Ryo tensed up. "Mrs. Nakajima, I don't think -"   
  
"You will walk with me," she said imperiously, "because I have something to give you. And you won't make an old lady go all the way over to the other end of the hall just for a delivery, will you?"   
  
Well. Since she put it that way. She did walk slowly, with a very slight limp that hinted at a bad hip, and as much as Ryo disliked her, neither did he like the thought of making her go out of her way, and then owing her for the effort.   
  
All the same, Ryo wondered what she would want to give him. Wasn't she busy spreading nasty rumors about him, Touma and Seiji all this time?   
  
He walked with her down the long corridor, down to her room. To Ryo's surprise, she even invited him in (although she did not invite him to sit). Her room was much smaller than Touma and Seiji's, but definitely well-furnished - speaking of being well-loved by someone, or a bunch of someones. She  _had_  mentioned having adult children who made a comfortable living...   
  
"Here," she said presently. She had produced a large basket of what seemed like baked goods from her kitchen and was limping back to the living room to hand it to him.   
  
"The Building Association Ladies made that," she almost spat at him. "Most are fresh from the oven, so don't refrigerate them yet. I daresay it was a good thing we bumped into each other as I was coming back from my afternoon stroll. The Ladies assigned the delivery to me, because of all the members, I live the closest to you."   
  
"This... wasn't necessary," Ryo stammered, a bit taken aback. It was a really large basket.   
  
"Now off with you," the old woman said, physically shepherding Ryo out the door. "Your friend needs all the energy he can get, and it's best to eat pastries when they're fresh."   
  
It was perhaps not a good time to mention that Seiji couldn't digest solids properly - and at any rate, Touma went through sweets like water, so this was not going to waste.   
  
Besides, Ryo thought he sensed a note of genuine concern there, somewhere in the last thing she said.   
  
He turned to her with a large box under one arm and the other hand carrying a big basket of baked goods, and bowed to the waist. "Thank you," he said.   
  
When he looked up at her, he thought he saw a sad expression cross her face, for a fraction of a second.   
  
"It's not right, a young person suffering like that," she muttered. "My late husband," she began, but never quite finished, because she clamped her lips together tight, stepped back inside and shut and locked the door.   
  
Ryo stood in front of her door a second longer than he'd thought - surprised for many reasons, not the least of which was finding out that there was actually something the building gossip didn't want to talk about.   
  
At least, not with him.   
  
  
  
  
  
Date Yayoi was on the sofa in the living room, when he came back. She was in the company of Touma's suitcase again, though she had returned most of the papers to their original nests.   
  
"Seiji is awake, but resting," she reported in a low voice.   
  
She cast an inquiring glance at the large box-and-basket combo that Ryo was hauling in. Especially the basket, knowing as she did that Seiji was as yet unable to eat solids well.   
  
"Oh," Ryo said awkwardly. "Gifts." Then she nodded and politely refused an offer of pastries and more tea.   
  
Ryo disposed of his burden first, then went over to sit on the sofa beside Yayoi. "He does not want to return to the hospital," she said to him. Then let out a small sigh. "Just as well. He is stable. Right now, what he needs the most is rest. He believes he will gain the use of his legs back with exercise and time."   
  
"Is he right?" Ryo asked. In response, Yayoi cast her gaze downward.   
  
"Sanada-san," she said instead. "Thank you for letting me read these. These papers... give us an insight on how brilliant Hashiba-san really is."   
  
Ryo followed her gaze down to the papers in her hands. As expected, their contents made no sense to him. Touma's handwriting, so light and neat, so freakishly organized, sketched out chemical equations, spewed medical jargon without mercy.   
  
"I must tell you this in terms you can understand." Her eyes, when she trained them back on Ryo, were devoid of mocking. She was simply explaining, the way a doctor would to someone who takes care of her patient. "Hashiba-san's research is about the weakness of genes. But he has been focusing on a specific weakness for a specific gene - and the disease he has built his entire research around is... unlikely to occur. And even if it does, it would be on one person in a  _trillion_ . This makes his research unusable to most profit-oriented groups."   
  
Ryo already understood that much. He'd known since the time the four of them met to discuss their options; Touma had said that no other pharmaceutical company would hire him again as a researcher, because he wouldn't make drugs that sell.   
  
He'd also sensed how much Touma hated that word:  _sell._   
  
"However... if this data is to be believed, half of his research has yielded data on genetic weakness that is  _decades_  ahead of its time. He gives us ideas on how genetic weakness can be manipulated, even altered or offset. And some of those ideas are very, very plausible."   
  
"You mean," Ryo ventured, "this is  _good_  research? The kind big companies want?"   
  
Yayoi nodded readily. "It is valuable research. Very valuable. I cannot give you the figures, but... suffice it to say, if his employers knew about this, they would offer a good portion of the company's shares of stock to him for the right to even  _look_  at it."   
  
Oh yes - Yayoi didn't know that Touma was out of a job. Had been for some time. He supposed Seiji hadn't told her. If so, Ryo was probably not in the best place to tell her, either.   
  
"Suffice it to say, Sanada-san," Yayoi continued, voice turning grim, "that if Hashiba-san could alter the direction of his research by a tiny fraction... he could develop a number of medicines that would solve a number of ailments that modern medicine could not cure yet. These include common genetic diseases that affect untold millions."   
  
There was a gleam in her pale violet eyes. It was full of hope and awe and distress, and Ryo found himself staring into it. These were Seiji's eyes, he said to himself at the back of his mind. Seiji was telling him to understand how important this was.   
  
"Sanada-san." Her fingers clenched on the edges of the papers in her hand, not caring for now if she showed that she was not calm. "Hashiba-san may be able to save my brother. Or he may not. But one thing is certain - he could save the world if he wanted to."   
  
  
  
  
Yayoi drove back home. Then night came. The evening news came and went. Ryo dispensed medication, prepared dinner for three, and put one back into the fridge, then cleaned up.    
  
Still no Touma.   
  
The things Date Yayoi had said to him earlier still buzzed in his head. He was burning to talk to Touma about them. Was it true, was Touma's research in fact something that no pharmaceutical company could refuse? Was it something that could, in Seiji's older sister's words, "save the world"?   
  
If so, why was he hiding it?   
  
What would get in the way of him using his research to get another job working at a lab? Or even getting his own lab? How could Ryo help?   
  
...Or did he have a new job already? Or a lab of his own? Without telling Ryo and the rest?   
  
While Ryo thought about such heavy things, he had to move about. Had to keep his hands busy, at least. Else the heavy things would weigh him down. So he decided to bring out the box he'd bought from downtown, out to the balcony. It was time to tinker around with it.   
  
Thankfully it was a clear night. No clouds. No threat of rain. He opened the box and started taking out disassembled parts.   
  
Ryo liked cameras. He understood cameras at least; what made them work, what gave them power, what made certain models better than others. He knew lenses and glares and exposures and shutters and tubes. That was why even if he didn't like putting together newfangled gadgets in general, and if this wasn't a camera exactly, he enjoyed this particular task: it was familiar.   
  
He was finished a good hour later. No Touma yet, but the satisfaction of having completed such a complicated device refreshed him; he didn't mind waiting a little longer.   
  
He looked through the eyepiece. Turned the knobs and dials to adjust the angle, the magnification and the tripod height. It was definitely working.   
  
It was also time to check up on Seiji. So he left the balcony and went to Seiji's room.   
  
And the instant he saw that Seiji was awake, lying under the blankets and looking out the window, what left Ryo's lips was "I want to show you something."   
  
Seiji turned his gaze to Ryo. When he saw that his friend wasn't carrying anything, he reached for his cane.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed with some difficulty, then gripping the head of his cane with both hands, struggled to get on his feet.    
  
Ryo waited patiently, knowing that his help wasn't welcome just yet. Finally, falling back onto a sitting position and breathing deeply, Seiji sighed, "Sorry... you'll have to bring it here."   
  
"Yes," Ryo replied. "Or!" He stepped into the room and headed straight for the closet, taking out a blanket and a cloth cap.   
  
He wrapped the blanket around Seiji's shoulders and fixed the cap on his head. Then slid one arm under Seiji's arms and the other under Seiji's knees. Seiji didn't protest, though he grimaced as if he was uncomfortable for the first few seconds. Understanding, he kept the blanket wrapped around his shoulders with one hand while Ryo carried him in his arms out of the room, to the balcony.   
  
It might just have been that Ryo's arms had gotten stronger, or Seiji had become so light. He seemed to weigh even less than he did when he was being rushed to Touma's car, just a few days ago. Now that Seiji was unable to move his legs, they would have to do this a lot from now on, Ryo silently said to himself, and he didn't care. He was there for things like this, and his friend weighed almost nothing.   
  
When they reached the balcony, Ryo carefully put Seiji down to sit under the device he had just assembled. Ryo realized belatedly that he hadn't gone to get pillows and after a quick apology, he rushed back indoors. Seiji didn't seem to mind the lack of pillows, however. When Ryo stepped out a moment later, Seiji was already sitting serenely in a lotus position under the telescope, looking through the eyepiece.   
  
Ryo sat beside him, setting the pillows aside for the moment. He inched up close and planted one hand on the floor behind Seiji so their sides would touch and Seiji could be kept warm, just in case the blanket wasn't doing its job.   
  
The last thing he wanted to do was send Seiji back to the hospital because of hypothermia. Just because he was selfish enough to bring a sick friend out for such a small thing.   
  
Seiji looked through the eyepiece a moment longer. Then he slowly drew back and muttered "Touma would like this." Ryo was only barely close enough to him to hear it.   
  
While Ryo thought of how to reply to that, Seiji leaned back against his arm. On impulse, Ryo drew closer to him. Seiji leaned his head back against Ryo's shoulder.   
  
  
  
  
It was peaceful here. Ryo couldn't remember the last time he felt this  _quiet._  The sounds of the city were whispers coming from far below, and only the occasional sound of the wind through the tall neighboring buildings interrupted them.   
  
It occurred to Ryo that Touma might return home at any minute and find them out of doors, sitting close together on the bare balcony floor like this. Randomly he wondered: would the feeling dissipate if Touma came to join them? Maybe even foaming at the mouth because Ryo was risking Seiji catching his death of cold?   
  
Then he realized: No. It wouldn't do a damn thing. In fact, it would be better if Touma was here. It would, somehow, even feel complete.   
  
"Touma is," Seiji started to say. But he trailed off. After a minute he said instead, "Aren't you scared?"   
  
"Of...?"   
  
"Of what's happening to him."   
  
Ryo looked at his friend. "Shouldn't I be more scared of what's happening to  _you?"_   
  
"Why?" Seiji said with a hint of dryness. "We all know where I'm headed."   
  
Ryo scowled. About as much as he could scowl at Seiji, who was trusting his whole weight on him.   
  
"Don't talk like that." He tried to sound stern. But his voice came out pleading.   
  
"It's the truth." On his part, Seiji's voice was only level. "But Touma... he's going to a place we can't follow. He shouldn't... be out on his own."   
  
Ryo was about to go off on how Seiji should stop worrying so much about Touma. Worrying (or what seemed a lot like it) made him pass out from overexertion just a few hours ago; he was still recovering from it. Worrying was not doing anyone any good. He should care about himself more.   
  
But that wasn't what came out, because he caught himself, and took a deep breath to clear his head before talking again.   
  
"He's just doing what he needs to. He cares a lot about you."   
  
"Yes, that." Seiji's hesitation at this point felt significant. "Was probably my fault."   
  
Eh? "What was?"   
  
"It," Seiji answered. "I kissed him first."   
  
Ryo suddenly realized he was staring, and quickly looked away.   
  
A part of him truly did not know. A part of him knew, but did not want to think about it. And here it was, out in the open. So what does one say in response to such a revelation? How does one actually  _feel?_   
  
"At the time I thought," Seiji continued, "I only did it because I wanted him to think all the trouble he was going through for me was worth it. What do you do... when someone has made you the center of his universe?" He paused, pondering his next words. "But as time went by, I realized... it wasn't that simple. For one thing, I acted on an emotion... rather, a number of emotions... that have been there from the beginning."   
  
A hundred questions were running through Ryo's head. When did it start?  _How_  did it start? "I kissed him first" was hardly an answer. How did the two most important people in the world to him at this moment realize they wanted to be with each other?   
  
Was it while Ryo wasn't paying attention? Was it out of loneliness or grief? Could he have done something to change it - and if he had been there, would anything have been different?  _Easier,_  at least?   
  
"Spending so much time with one person," Seiji said carefully, as if listening to Ryo's thoughts and picking through a myriad of words for the most correct response, "makes you more aware of the feelings you've always had toward that person. You realize just how much you care about him, how much you're willing to give up for his sake."   
  
Ryo's questions simmered down to nothing. As they did, he realized that it was pointless to share his thoughts about it. Seiji was trying to talk to him from a place he couldn't reach, not just yet.   
  
And he realized Touma must have been talking to him from that place, as well - all this time.   
  
Seiji reached for Ryo's hand. He grasped it as tightly as he could, the lack of strength in his fingers all too telling.   
  
"Ryo," he said, "take care of him."   
  
Ryo squeezed his friend's frail, cool hand. He thought about letting go at that point, but Seiji's fingers remained wrapped around the palm of his hand. Until he had given an answer.   
  
"I can't - "   
  
"Nobody else can." Seiji was looking into Ryo's eyes. This time Ryo was having a hard time meeting his gaze. It held too much knowledge of things to come, he couldn't bear it.   
  
"But we always fight. I can't even make him listen to me. What does he need me around for?" What does he need  _anyone_  around for, Ryo wanted to add. But he knew it wasn't wise. Clearly, for five years at least, he had needed Seiji around.   
  
Seiji's smile was sad and faint.   
  
"He's always needed you," he said. "Neither of you... knows just how much."   
  
After saying this, he let out a sigh that sounded a great deal like relief. And his smile vanished.   
  
He looked up at the night sky.   
  
"Touma... was the one who spent the most time alone out there," he said to himself. "How could he have forgotten what it was like?"   
  
He laid a hand on the telescope in front of him, but didn't look through it again for the rest of the night. There was, after all, nothing there he hadn't seen many times before.   
  
  
  
  
  
It was 2 AM when Ryo heard the front door key turning.   
  
He had been falling asleep on the couch. He leapt to his feet and ran a hand over his face, hurrying to rub sleep out of his eyes.   
  
So that when the front door opened, Ryo was the one to flip on the switch at the hall. "Touma!" he greeted loudly; he wasn't conscious enough to modulate himself yet.   
  
Touma stepped inside and looked up at Ryo.   
  
There was a large patch of bandage taped over Touma's right eye, his long bangs incapable of obscuring it. His shirt was clean, though there were a few spatters of blood on his jeans that the glare of the hallway light made starker. His upper right arm was bandaged too, though there was no splint as far as Ryo could see.   
  
The sight of him was still enough to wake Ryo fully.   
  
_"Touma!"_  he cried. He dashed forward and grabbed Touma by the shoulders. "You're hurt! What happened?!"   
  
Touma seemed not to recognize Ryo. His eyes did not seem dazed, but they did seem distant, as if he had set his mind on doing something, and someone he didn't know had gotten in his way.   
  
With one unhurried movement he swept Ryo's hands away. Then he shut and locked the front door. And set about removing his shoes.   
  
_"Tadaima,"_  he said softly to the floor, not caring if anyone else heard.   
  
As Ryo watched, horrified and helpless, Touma walked further into the living room. Slouched off to the room that he and Seiji shared, ignoring everything, even the lack of lights.   
  
Touma stepped inside and promptly forgot to close the bedroom door. It hung open impudently, inviting Ryo to approach.   
  
Still out of sorts from being so rudely awakened, Ryo debated with himself on what to do. Should he step inside and see how Touma was doing? Confront him, perhaps? Or should he take Touma's attitude as a dismissal well earned, and retire to his own room?    
  
Ryo decided that he wouldn't be able to sleep without seeing if Touma was all right first.   
  
As silently as he could, Ryo opened the bedroom door wider so he could see inside.   
  
The faint city lights streaming in from the window were enough for him to see: they were lying on the same bed, Seiji's bed, turned toward each other.   
  
Touma's face was buried in Seiji's shoulder.   
  
In Seiji's arms, Touma seemed to have shrunk into something small and defenseless. He lay outside the blankets, holding Seiji as close to himself as he could afford to, seemingly not caring that he was lying on his bandaged arm. It seemed, for all the world, like looking at a lost infant who had just found his way back into a parent's loving embrace.   
  
The questions that Ryo thought had dissolved a while ago started to take shape again. They were the two most important people in the world to him at this moment. How long had they known? Why had they not told him?   
  
How many times had they made love on that bed?   
  
And why was it so painful to see this?   
  
Seiji's hand brushed Touma's hair and caressed his back. When Seiji saw that Ryo was at the doorway, he fell still and held Ryo's gaze for a moment. Touma did not move at all, seeming not to notice.   
  
Then Seiji's index finger rose to his lips.   
  
Ryo didn't even have the energy to nod. He stepped out and very slowly, very quietly closed the door after him.   
  
Even after he had done this, he did not go back to his room. His strength left him and he sat, back to the door, a heavy weight in his chest.   
  
He didn't know how to feel.


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning, when Ryo came in for Seiji's routine tests and medications, he found Seiji lying awake. Touma was on his side - still in the clothes he wore home last night, on Seiji's bed, fast asleep.   
  
Seiji wordlessly gestured for Ryo to take him outside, and Ryo obliged. Even when Seiji's weight had left the bed, Touma didn't stir.   
  
Ryo lingered for a second, looking down at Touma, with Seiji in his arms. Seiji looked up at him, registering the pensive look he saw on his friend's face.   
  
As Ryo was setting Seiji carefully down on the couch, he asked "What happened to him?"   
  
Seiji shook his head. Ryo nodded. He started the routine pre-breakfast tests, looking grim, as if he were struggling to keep more questions from rising to the surface.   
  
But as it often was with Ryo, the questions won. "Did it look like a fight? Or an accident?"   
  
Seiji thought about it. "Not a fight," he eventually said. But as he could offer no additional wisdom, he said no more.   
  
Touma woke up at around 11 AM. And even when he did, he did not immediately get out of the room. Ryo found out because it was nearing lunchtime and he had to see if Touma was awake. Otherwise his share of the meal was going into the fridge again.   
  
He was sitting on the edge of Seiji's bed, inspecting the wound under his previously bandaged upper arm. His shirt and soiled wrappings lay on the floor. A large, freshly sewn-up gash glared at Ryo from that side of the room, like an unwanted visitor determined to make trouble.   
  
Ryo strode over to Touma, not certain what to do. His first impulse was to show his alarm - but he caught himself as soon as he remembered that alarm could be parsed as anger and that might not be a very good thing to show a person who had just awoken from a possibly traumatic night.   
  
What he did was sit at the edge of Touma's bed, beside Seiji's, so he and Touma could face each other. Touma looked up at him, but did not look him in the eye. "So..." Ryo began.   
  
"The car," Touma said without further prompting. "I crashed it. So now we have no car." He pretended to inspect his wound some more. "That's going to be a problem..."   
  
" _How_  did you crash it?"   
  
"How does  _anyone_  crash cars? Bad driving." He flinched when he touched a spot on his skin near the gash. "I was going too fast... trying to overtake this big truck. I didn't see the curve in the road..."   
  
"You didn't have to hurry," Ryo admonished. "Seiji wouldn't have liked it if you'd come home minus an arm."   
  
Touma stretched his lips into a mirthless smile. "I'm a doctor, remember? I could've sewn it back on."   
  
The wound on his arm may have looked bad, but it wasn't deep, Touma assured Ryo: nothing broken, no lasting damage. The people at the hospital he had checked himself into had wanted him to stay for observation, but he knew better than they did about where he needed to spend the night.   
  
He'd also removed the bandage taped over his right eye, and while his eye was partly shut, it seemed generally unhurt; there was instead a small, but rather deep cut over his eyebrow. Touma didn't seem concerned about that particular wound. Or about the bruises and smaller cuts his body had apparently sustained. Angry slices of red and patches of black and blue stood out on his pale skin.   
  
Ryo couldn't help remembering the cut on the lip he'd given Touma several weeks back, and realizing that it looked like it had hurt Touma more than these newer wounds did.   
  
"I need to clean up," Touma observed aloud. "Please have the antiseptic and the bandages ready for when I come out of the shower."   
  
"I will," Ryo answered. "But... talk to me first. Where did the accident happen? Where's the car now?"   
  
Touma sighed. He looked at Ryo, for a second as if contemplating telling him the truth. And the truth seemed painful - more painful than bearing up under Ryo's searching gaze.   
  
Then he said: "Tell me about the hyena again."   
  
Wounded or not, Ryo had to reach over, intending to slap him upside the head for that one. But instead his hand froze just as it was about to make contact with Touma's head.   
  
It snaked round the back of his neck and pulled Touma forward, pulling Ryo forward and off his seat as well.   
  
Ryo didn't really know what he had wanted to happen. Only, their foreheads touched lightly and afterwards, all he wanted to do was close his eyes.   
  
_How do I even start taking care of you?_   
  
But it didn't take very long before Touma tensed up and said "Ow."   
  
Ryo let go abruptly and fell back onto his seat. Touma's fingertips rose to the cut that must not have liked having contact with Ryo's perpetually fevered skin all that much.   
  
"Sorry," Ryo mumbled. To his surprise, Touma chuckled, clearly embarrassed.   
  
"All right," Touma declared, "in lieu of hyena story, that will do." He pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the shower. Ryo found himself staring at the bruises along the right side of Touma's back. He was going to need help applying medicine to that.   
  
  
  
  
Since the accident, it seemed as if Touma had become bolder with expressing himself, and less obsessed with the facts and figures of Seiji's health. Ryo noticed this instantly. Normally Touma would be isolating himself somewhere in the apartment, perhaps at the kitchen table or on the floor of the library, poring over Seiji's charts and his own notes.   
  
And normally, Touma would be limiting his movements around Seiji, keeping a cold distance as he went about his duties as a physician. He would be careful, lest Ryo suspect that he was being anything but professional in his routines.   
  
Not this time.   
  
This time he held Seiji's hand, even if he knew Ryo was around to see it. He wrapped his arms around Seiji from behind while they were all out at the balcony, seated on a spare mattress and taking turns with the telescope Ryo had bought. He leaned in to say something softly into Seiji's ear and smiled when Seiji whispered something back. He never did more than touch his lips to Seiji's hair in Ryo's presence, but the way he looked at Seiji was more than enough.   
  
Ryo could never watch it too long. It made him feel like he was intruding. Like he should never have offered to stay.   
  
Like he would give anything to be looked at that way, by anyone.   
  
But Touma hardly looked at him at all. Every day he patiently assisted Touma in tending his wounds, and all the while Touma spoke to him without holding his gaze for longer than a second.   
  
Touma never did say where the car got into an accident. When Ryo brought it up, he dismissed the issue by saying everything had been taken care of. With the kind of beating his car took, it was going to be cheaper to get a new car, so he wasn't going to bother trying to get the old one fixed. And he gave his word that he wasn't leaving home while he was still healing up. That was all Ryo needed to know.   
  
On the other hand, all Touma needed to know was that there were sweets in the house. Some well-meaning neighbors had dropped them off, Ryo reported; they should get around to thanking them at one point. "What for?" Touma said around a mouthful of cream puff. Seiji and Ryo looked at each other and decided he should be left out of any further discussion regarding the matter.   
  
Ryo didn't want to ask too many questions, or demand too much. It was only good to have Touma home. It was good to see him happy - because if he was happy, Seiji was happy. And that was all that Ryo needed.   
  
Touma no longer scribbled down notes. Instead, whenever he had time to himself, he stared into empty space, his brow knitted in concentration, looking as he did when he was studying materials he could hold in his hands. Ryo wondered at first if he should find this alarming... if it meant he had stopped developing Seiji's medications. But he recalled what Yayoi had said after reading Touma's research material: he had done everything humanly possible for Seiji. Maybe there was simply nothing new to write down.   
  
  
  
  
Now and then Shuu came to visit. The first time, Shuu came alone, to say he was sorry he couldn't visit Seiji at the hospital.   
  
Touma asked about the illness that had detained Shuu and then proceeded to dispense unwanted medical advice, which Shuu made light of until his absence from Seiji's bedside wasn't even worth discussing anymore.   
  
"My right leg felt numb all of a sudden," Shuu told them, "and the feeling just sort of... spread. Didn't have a fever, but couldn't get out of bed. Touma says it was just fatigue, so I don't have to worry."   
  
It was nothing like Seiji's disease, Touma had assured Shuu. It was not likely to recur. Maybe he had just been on his feet too long. After all, overseeing the day-to-day affairs of a chain of high-traffic food establishments is not a task for the weak of legs.   
  
Shuu was easy enough to convince. He was eager to move on to other things that interested him more. Like how Touma's research was going and how his younger siblings were all growing up so fast and getting boyfriends who sometimes annoyed the heck out of him and hey, how about that championship game on TV last night? Was it thrown or what??   
  
Shin, on the other hand, had settled into an apartment just a few stations down from Touma's, so he was over more often. He came by alone or with Shuu to deposit home-cooked gourmet meals into Touma's fridge, or to clean up. No matter how hard Ryo tried to keep the house clean and presentable, Shin would always find something to fix or to do better, and then rub it in Ryo's face.   
  
The place was always livelier with friends around. These frequent visits and his time alone with Seiji was enough to keep Touma occupied. For the next few weeks, it seemed as if Touma would never have to go away again.   
  
  
  
  
  
But of course, that was not to last.   
  
Seiji was starting to need the oxygen tank more and more. Touma increased the doses on certain medicines and reduced others, but that seemed to do little more than help Seiji sleep better. When he woke up, the breathing problems remained.   
  
Touma's concern was evident. He started to brood and to act restless. The fragile peace that the three of them had built around themselves was falling to pieces again.   
  
At one point, Ryo suggested that they call Yayoi again. Or any member of Seiji's family, just to let them know. Touma responded to this with a stony silence. Ryo tried to get a more substantial answer out of him, but Seiji laid a hand on Ryo's arm and shook his head - thus effectively preventing a fight from breaking out between the two. He knew well how Ryo's innate lack of self-preservation skills sometimes made it difficult for him to see where the limits lay.   
  
Very early one morning, Ryo woke to find Touma fully dressed to go out, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, heading for the front door.   
  
"Wait!" he called. Touma stopped in his tracks.  _What do you want?_  the look in his sunken eyes said.   
  
Ryo asked where he was going.   
  
"Out," was the terse reply. He started to walk on, but Ryo blocked his path.   
  
"What do you mean 'out'?" he demanded. "Out  _where?_  Your wounds are still healing. How long will you be gone?"   
  
"I don't know," Touma answered, frustrated with the pointless questioning. "Get out of my way."   
  
He started to push past Ryo. But Ryo, faster and stronger, saw it coming and was able to counter. In one swift movement he had pushed Touma up against the nearest wall.   
  
Bang. At the back of his mind, Ryo hoped that was not loud enough to wake Seiji. Touma stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise but defiant.   
  
His backpack slid off his shoulder and arm, onto the floor. It didn't make a very loud sound as it did; it must not have contained much more than a change of clothes.   
  
"What're you gonna tell me this time? You're off to meet another investor? Or to squat at another lab?" One arm was keeping Touma pinned; he wasn't going anywhere until he answered. "I know you haven't been working on Seiji's medicine, so I  _really_  want to hear this."   
  
Touma glared. "What are you accusing me of, Ryo?" His voice, while not loud, was definitely angry. "Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it's not happening."   
  
"Look me in the eye then," Ryo commanded. "Tell me you're still working on it. Tell me you haven't given up. I need you to."   
  
Lying at a close distance is a skill that not many people have. Touma happened to be one of the very few people blessed with it. He would lie if he needed to. He would tell you whatever you needed to hear to let him go.   
  
But there were certain people he couldn't do it to.   
  
Then again, not a lot of people could do it to Ryo.   
  
"I... haven't given up," he said in monotone. "On Seiji's cure."   
  
There was no lie there. Not the cure. No, not the cure - but he had given up on  _something._   
  
Was it his research? The medicine? If so, what did that mean for all of them? What  _else_  had Touma turned to?   
  
Ryo dropped his arm and his gaze, stepped back. Touma did not make a dash for the door as soon as he was released. That, at least, meant Ryo was able to buy a fraction of his time.   
  
"There's something I have to tell you," Ryo began, still sounding a bit pissed off. "On the day we brought Seiji home from the hospital... Yayoi-san came with us."   
  
"Yes," it was more a question than an answer. Already he was sure he wasn't going to like where this conversation was going.   
  
"She asked... she asked to see your notes. The ones in the suitcase."   
  
_"What?!"_  Touma pulled himself up; a battle stance. "You let her touch my notes?! I TOLD you - "   
  
"She didn't take any of it," Ryo said quickly, "or mess it up. She was very careful with it. She said - your research -"   
  
"Damn it, Ryo, the  _last_  thing I want is for another doctor to see those notes, let alone a relative of Seiji's." Touma was almost shaking with anger. Ryo knew he was never one to throw the first punch, but that didn't make things any easier, exactly.   
  
"Yayoi-san can be trusted! I'm sure of it! She said your research... can lead to some of the most important discoveries..." This was going badly. He raised his voice in an attempt to make the point clearer. "So don't give up on your work. Please. Even if it's not for Seiji."   
  
As soon as he said that, it seemed Touma's rage started to dissipate. Ryo hadn't meant to get Touma's hackles up; he'd wanted to be encouraging, to be his usual enthusiastic self, changing things through sheer force of will. He'd wanted to make Touma feel better, even if what he'd said had the exact opposite effect.   
  
Touma's shoulders drooped. Ryo stepped forward and laid his hands on them, as if that was enough to give them strength.   
  
"Don't you understand, Ryo?" Touma muttered. "If it's not for Seiji, I can't afford to care about it. There's so much to do, there's only one of me, and... I'm not as smart as you think." This was something he would never have admitted, ten years ago, when they still had things to hide from each other. Now he said it easily, though with head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground.   
  
"That's not true," Ryo interrupted. "Yayoi-san said - you're brilliant. She could see that in what you wrote. You can save the world..."   
  
"I  _am_  saving the world," Touma said quietly, wearily.  _"My_  world."   
  
_Your world,_  Ryo wished he could say eloquently, without somehow making the conversation worse.  _Do you mean "our" world? The one with the_  youja  _and the armor and magic powers, the one we could save if only we wanted it badly enough? That world is_ gone,  _Touma. Nobody even remembers it now._   
  
But a part of him knew what Touma meant. His world had a name. And no matter what he did, or didn't do, it seemed it was dying by the day.   
  
Touma raised his hands and touched his fingertips to Ryo's arms - not to threaten. "Let me go."   
  
"I can't." This was the truth, in so many dimensions. Ryo couldn't just let Touma out of his sight again. Not after what happened the last time.   
  
  
  
  
  
Touma had not actually known that Shin had left his car with Ryo. When he learned it, he asked when Ryo was planning on telling him. "Never," Ryo guiltily confessed. "I was going to use it to tail you."   
  
Touma's eyes narrowed. "I'm insulted," he huffed. "You don't think I'd know if I'm being followed?" Ryo cleared his throat, scratched his head and hoped he wasn't blushing as he said, "Well, I wanted to at least see how far I could get..."   
  
Touma agreed to be driven to the train station. It was only practical, given that the particular station he had to go to was a good distance from their apartment - but it was also practical for Ryo not to accompany him. Someone needed to be home, in case something else happened to Seiji.   
  
True, they could get Shin to stay with Seiji - but if worse came to worse, Shin should not be left to handle things alone. Moreover, the only other person besides Touma who knew Seiji's routines was Ryo. So Ryo simply had to stay. Not even he could argue with that logic.   
  
What Ryo did not understand was why Touma had to leave - for an emergency out-of-town trip, no less. Touma remained taciturn on that matter, promising only that things were to be revealed "in time."   
  
When Ryo started to protest, he responded with a challenge: "Don't you trust me?"   
  
Ryo's teeth clenched.   
  
The long drive to the station threatened to be awkward after that. Neither of them was ever very good at small talk, or at diffusing tension - that was always someone else's job.   
  
But Ryo had to take a chance. They were getting nearer to the train station, closer to the moment when Touma would step out of the car, shut the door behind him, and vanish for another unknown period of time. This might be the only opportunity he had to speak.   
  
"Shin once asked me," he ventured, "if I told Seiji anything. When he was in the hospital." He paused for a reaction. There was none. He kept going. "I said I couldn't think of anything. And it was true. But when you keep leaving like this... I realize there are a lot of things I want to say. To you."   
  
Touma was looking out the open window of his side of the car, silent, waiting.   
  
"Now, more than ever, I worry about you. I always worry that you've gotten into some accident or gotten mixed up in some bad business. I think, 'I should make him tell. I should make him stop being so damn selfish.' And maybe I should hit you or something just to drive it home." Ryo changed gears, and his voice softened. "But it all goes away when you come back."   
  
Ryo stopped talking because he thought he heard Touma say something. But why would Touma say anything at that point? He wasn't even looking at Ryo.   
  
"I don't know why... but when you're gone, it feels like things... aren't getting any better. Maybe it's because you're so cool most of the time..." God, his lack of skill with words. Why couldn't it have been he who was sick while Seiji was here talking some sense into Touma's impossibly thick skull? "You were always the one looking after us, you know? The one who kept it together. The one who was always right. So when you leave it feels like you don't trust anyone else to understand what has to be done. Or like - " Say it. It was best just to come out and say it. " - like there's something to run away from."   
  
Touma glared at him. Ryo felt it like a cold shiver running down his back. He steeled himself against it.   
  
"But you see... we're all grown up now and... it's okay to be afraid or to make mistakes, even for you. It's okay to be the one looked after."   
  
"Ryo, we've saved each other's lives." In his old man's lecturing voice, a breath away from stern. "We don't owe each other anything anymore."   
  
"But that doesn't mean we don't have to care about each other anymore, right?"   
  
The station was in sight. There was time at least for a "yes" or a "no," but Touma stayed silent.   
  
As the car was pulling over, he finally said: "Sometimes, I wish we didn't have to care. It would be so much easier."   
  
Ryo wondered if it was his childhood friend or the doctor talking then. Either way, it didn't even sound like he was the one being addressed.   
  
The car stopped. Touma opened the door to the passenger's side of the car and stepped out. Before he could step away, he turned back and leaned down, looking for a moment like he wanted to say something more.   
  
But all he did was close the door.   
  
  
  
  
A car, driving away from a certain train station, stopped when the traffic light turned red. Inside the car was a young man with tanned skin and black hair. A hundred unsaid things were going through his head.   
  
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He would have stayed like that for a long time, if the car behind his had not blown its horn to signal the changing of the light to green. Then the young man sat up, took a deep breath and drove on.   
  
At roughly the same time, a train was making its way out of Tokyo. Inside the train was a tall young man with pale skin and tortured eyes. A hundred thoughts were going through his head.   
  
There were plenty of empty seats but he stood by the door. While some of the passengers discreetly watched him while pretending not to, he rested his scarred forehead against the glass. Then the next station came, and he would have to make his decision: to leave the train or to stay. To move forward or back.   
  
The young man stepped away from the door just before it opened. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and found himself a seat.   
  
And then "back" was no longer an option.


	12. Chapter 12

Ryo had a dream. In this dream, he saw a slender young man in old court robes, wearing a tall black  _eboshi_  like a priest or a royal official. The young man was standing in the middle of a battlefield in the aftermath of a bloody war, surrounded by bodies and dust and darkness.   
  
His back was turned; Ryo couldn't see his face. The nobleman stood very still.   
  
This scene was vaguely familiar to him. It felt like he had seen this before - perhaps on a television show, or the cover of a book he'd read. He was even sure that he knew that nobleman himself, though the name escaped him at the moment...   
  
In his dream Ryo approached the man in the battlefield. He reached out his hand and grabbed the nobleman by the shoulder, turned the nobleman towards him. But at that instant he saw that the hand reaching out wasn't his own - it was a soldier's. And a number of other soldiers came from behind him to surround the nobleman with swords and spears.   
  
The nobleman turned to the soldier whose hand was on his shoulder. He smiled. But though the smile was visible, the rest of his face was not.   
  
The soldiers clamped iron manacles on the nobleman's hands and feet. "I knew you would find me," he said calmly.   
  
Then the scene changed: the nobleman was on his knees in front of a throne. He remained bound in chains, surrounded by watchful soldiers, though he was surrounded too by dozens of stern-faced courtiers. They sat like gargoyles, motionless and menacing, all their stone eyes fixed on the young man at the center of the room.   
  
The young man knelt quietly, head bowed, awaiting judgment. Ryo started to speak.  _Why,_  he asked.  _Why did you do it?_   
  
The young man raised his face. His lips started to form an answer.   
  
Then someone started calling Ryo's name.   
  
  
  
  
"Ryo..."   
  
So that was another vaguely familiar thing, except on a different side of waking. A young man's urgent voice, calling to him across the years.   
  
"Ryo... wake up."   
  
It was one of his friends. Touma. Was it Touma? It would make sense if it was Touma, because this was his apartment, wasn't it...?   
  
"Ryo." A hand on his arm, cool like moonlight. The temperature finally roused him.   
  
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Seiji's face.   
  
He knocked his head against the headboard in his rush to sit up and almost fell asleep again that way. But when he opened his eyes, slowly and cautiously, Seiji was still there.   
  
This was no dream. Seiji was up and about, and at the moment he was sitting on the edge of Ryo's bed.   
  
And Seiji's eyes were bright with life, gently reflecting the light streaming from the open doorway. He sat with his shoulders squared and his back straight... not trembling with the effort of keeping himself stable, not even slightly. Seiji had managed to come to the guest room where Ryo slept, all by himself.   
  
Seiji was -   
  
Seiji was  _okay._   
  
Skeletal as he had been all this time, but finally with strength in his limbs and ease in his movements. His voice was not weak anymore, it was steady and clear.   
  
No words could come out of Ryo's lips. His hands reached out and grabbed Seiji by the shoulders, and Seiji did not wince or resist. Seiji met his gaze wide-eyed - every bit as surprised, if not more, every bit as overjoyed.   
  
And scared.   
  
Ryo's hands touched Seiji's face. There was warmth under the skin, a flush that felt like life. He was sure that in stronger light, the color in Seiji's cheeks would be visible.   
  
Ryo pulled Seiji close, not caring if he might have pulled too strongly, or if he didn't understand.   
  
Seiji started to speak. Then Ryo started to speak. Then they both started stammering at once and then they started laughing at their own incoherence. Their fears inched away, until all that was left was two young friends in the middle of a miracle, still telling themselves this was real, this was real, it wasn't a dream, Seiji was all better.   
  
It was close to sunrise when Seiji came into Ryo's room. First light found the place ringing with their loud voices and laughter.   
  
  
  
  
Touma's cell phone must have been off. Ryo tried ringing him until his fingers were sore and he had almost destroyed the keypad of their landline unit. Voicemail was all that answered.   
  
"It's all right," Seiji assured him. "He'll come back."   
  
"We should look for him," Ryo declared. Seiji shook his head.   
  
"We don't even know where to start," he pointed out.   
  
He also told Ryo about something Touma had said, about how to treat every major health occurrence: Seiji should wait 24 hours, monitoring himself all the while. If within 24 hours he had not gotten better or worse, it means his condition - whatever it was - was stable. If he had not slipped back into inutility after 24 hours, it was safe for him to presume he wasn't going to do so anytime soon.   
  
"Tomorrow," Seiji said half to himself, "it should be safe to go out."   
  
Seiji fell silent, and Ryo fell silent with him. There was no telling what could happen in 24 hours. They didn't know where this miracle came from, and they didn't know what was going to take it away, and when.   
  
While they thought things over, hoping all the while for Touma to call, they stayed indoors and tried different things. They tried feeding Seiji solid foods, and he did so without difficulty (and great relish, it must be added - "grace" went out the window where Ryo's vegetarian dishes were concerned). He couldn't eat a lot, though, because his body had been on a semi-liquid diet for months and he needed time to adjust. They tried testing his arms and legs, and while he could stand and walk without problems, it seemed he still ran out of breath after a few minutes of exertion. They conducted Seiji's routine tests and marveled together at how  _normal_  the results were, as if they had not been consistently dismal during the past weeks.   
  
They dared not make Seiji do anything that required too much effort, like lift anything heavy or do push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and other regular exercises for healthy bodies. There was no need to tempt fate.   
  
Ryo wanted to call Shin and Shuu, and even Seiji's family, but Seiji asked him not to - in 24 hours, his condition may still deteriorate. They didn't need to be informed of any changes that weren't going to last. They should be patient.   
  
Ryo understood, but patience was never his strong suit.   
  
And he could tell Seiji was getting impatient as well. Late into the morning he became restless. He wanted to go out of the apartment, at least.   
  
"The last time I took a step out of these doors," he lamented, "it was to go to the hospital. I want to stretch my damn legs."   
  
And when Seiji was resorting to cussing, he could only mean business.   
  
So Ryo helped Seiji to the shower (a  _shower_ , not a bath - Seiji enjoyed being able to wash himself, finally), then they picked out something for him to wear - a Western-style suit, from one of the many suits Touma had bought for him during his last trip downtown with Ryo.   
  
As he was helping Seiji put the clothes on, he noted the sad look in Seiji's eyes. "I didn't think I was going to be able to wear anything like this again," Seiji said thoughtfully.   
  
"It looks good on you," Ryo remarked. And it did. Touma knew Seiji's body inside out, it seemed - a fact that made him feel cold inside, for some reason.   
  
But Seiji chuckled, "I hate the colors."   
  
The colors were not terrible, Ryo assured him. Shin could have picked them out and he could be wearing plaid right now.   
  
Thus prepared, they left the apartment. Seiji looked nervous as he took his first real step out of doors, in a long time.   
  
But he sighed audibly in relief as Ryo closed and locked the door behind them.   
  
  
  
  
The first place they went to was Mrs. Nakajima's apartment, just down the hall. From that experience, they learned that Seiji had to walk slowly, or else his knees would start to wobble - partly from anxiety, and partly from exhaustion. He had already done a great deal more walking in place indoors than he had done in a while.   
  
Mrs. Nakajima was still in her robe and hair rollers when Seiji called on her. Then again, it wasn't Seiji's fault she was caught unprepared; it was mid-morning. Other women would be out of their robes and rollers by then.   
  
"What d'you want?" she barked at them. She glared daggers at Ryo, who stepped back warily.   
  
"Good morning," Seiji greeted with a shallow bow. "Mrs. Nakajima, we've never met. I live down the hall." A killer smile. "I just wanted to drop by and thank you for the pies you sent."   
  
Ryo watched amused as Mrs. Nakajima transformed slowly from harpy in hairspray to shifty-eyed little old woman in hairspray. Wow.   
  
"So you're that young man." She gathered her robes about herself - more to pull herself up, than to seem defensive. "All better now, are you?"   
  
"It seems," Seiji answered, still glowing with charm. "I was wondering if you liked to read. I wanted to give you this."   
  
He produced a number of books he had been carrying under one arm - his Sengoku-era novels. A complete set, up to the last one published, neatly tied together with string.   
  
"What's this?" she asked, curious instead of excited.   
  
Seiji explained then that he had been holed up in the apartment all this time, because he was a writer. He was also known as Rin Koutarou, perhaps she had heard of him?   
  
She seemed puzzled at first. Then recognition dawned on her and her eyes slowly grew wider. And wider. Ryo was sure a hair roller popped out at that point.   
  
"YOU'RE Rin Kou - " A hand rose to her lips. "MY GRANDDAUGHTER LOVES YOUR BOOKS."   
  
"Does she now?" Seiji flashed a knowing smile aside to Ryo, as if to say  _Piece of cake_ .   
  
Mrs. Nakajima babbled a bit more about her granddaughter, who was 12 and good in English and about to enter middle school, then she invited them in - and not grudgingly this time, like she did with Ryo. Obviously she did not care as much that they could be  _that sort_  of young men, who lived in the same building as she did. That didn't matter today.   
  
But Seiji declined. He and his friend Ryo had other places they needed to visit. He handed the books to her, and she thanked him profusely, leading Ryo to think her granddaughter was in fact not the only one who liked Seiji's writing.   
  
As they were walking away, Ryo asked what these "other places" were. Seiji answered, in more refined terms, Hell if he knew.   
  
"The trick is to leave them thinking 'What a nice boy. I should tell all my friends about him,'" Seiji explained.    
  
"Uh... right," Ryo said, as if he got it.   
  
"I do want to go out of the building, though," Seiji said. "There's a good cafe by the park near here, if I recall correctly - can we stay there for a while?"   
  
  
  
  
They couldn't go too far, in case Touma called or came home. Seiji didn't think it was likely that was going to happen soon, however. He was confident they had time.   
  
Seiji sat on a park bench, basking in the sunlight - not like he did at home, in the greenhouse or by any of the windows. His eyes were closed; a calm smile was on his face.   
  
It felt like a long time since the last time Ryo had seen him like this - happy and peaceful, free of any discomfort or pain. Years had fallen from his face and from his very thin limbs, and he was suddenly twenty, sixteen, fourteen years old.    
  
He was going to stay by Ryo's side forever. They were going to stay friends all their lives. They were going to grow old together, and die together, and fight together and for each other, should the need to do so return at any time.   
  
Nearby, children played unaware of their presence. Out in the open, nobody cared about them, nobody cast them a second glance. Out here was a place you could lose your cares in.   
  
Why was it, then, that Ryo felt so contemplative?   
  
"You're worried about him."   
  
Ryo sat up. What was Seiji talking about?   
  
Seiji wasn't smiling anymore. "I am too," he said, before he looked away again.   
  
Ryo remembered the dream he had last night, which might have been one of the reasons he felt a bit off. But that wasn't what he wanted to talk about right now. "He should be here," he said to Seiji. "This is everything he wants. His medicines just take a long time to work, but they work. He should know!"   
  
Seiji was silent. After a while, he asked "Why do you think Touma is often away?"   
  
Ryo asked back: "Doesn't he tell you anything?"   
  
Seiji shook his head. "I try to ask, but he gets angry." A faint smile touched his lips. "We used to fight, too. A lot. Did you know that?"   
  
Ryo didn't answer. He didn't know. A part of him didn't  _want_  to know.   
  
"Touma... looks at all possible angles to solve a problem. And when he's settled on one solution, he gets stubborn about it. He'll bend all his energies to making it happen, because he knows it's what's best, and nothing you say will change it." Seiji turned his face up to the sky. "I know that's what you like about him."   
  
This would have been a good place for a witty retort. But Ryo was never very good at those. And the way Seiji spoke about it made it seem like an incontrovertible fact, not a simple observation.   
  
"I remember," Seiji said with his eyes closed, "right after we had sealed away the  _youjakai_ , after getting the white armor... we needed time to heal. So we stayed with Nasuti at the Yagyuu mansion while we recovered.   
  
"You were always looking for him. You didn't always have to be around him, you just needed to know where he was, because you'd feel uneasy if you didn't. You needed to know if he was okay. You were like that with everyone... but especially him."   
  
"That must've made me unbearable," Ryo said dryly. Seiji chuckled.   
  
"No, Ryo," Seiji answered, "that just made you obvious. To everyone except him."   
  
Ryo's ears started to feel hot. God, was he blushing again? This wouldn't do. There were plenty of ways to react, and  _this_  was definitely the least acceptable one.   
  
He could swear he'd never even thought about it. Okay, maybe once or twice. But he'd never really thought about it  _seriously._  They were all his best friends, his family -  _none_  of them affected him more than the rest.   
  
And he dared not think that he affected any of them more than the rest did, either. He dared not think he was special to any of them.   
  
But it took too much effort to lie.   
  
"It's okay," Seiji said. "You got away with it. We all had a crush on you back then, anyway."   
  
This almost made Ryo fall out of his seat.   
  
_"...What?!"_   
  
"Except maybe Shin," Seiji said flatly.   
  
Which meant he was joking.   
  
Ryo punched him on the shoulder. Seiji punched back. It turned into a friendly scuffle, and  _then_  people started to stare.   
  
It wasn't rough enough to make them fall to the ground, but it  _was_  rough enough to make Seiji start breathing heavily through his laughter, and for his face to turn red with exertion. Ryo stopped it by wrapping his arm around Seiji's shoulders and pulling him close, and soon Seiji's laughter started fading reluctantly.   
  
Seiji laid his head on Ryo's shoulder, and his hand on Ryo's knee. Ryo let them stay. He held his friend close, no matter who was looking.   
  
"Ryo," Seiji said softly, "what will happen tomorrow?"   
  
Ryo let out a breath and leaned in closer.   
  
"I don't know," he admitted.   
  
  
  
  
  
Touma didn't call. Or come home. Close to dawn, Ryo still couldn't sleep.   
  
He went over to Seiji's room. Seiji couldn't sleep either. He lay on his side, looking over at the empty bed by the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.   
  
"Do you need help turning in?" Ryo asked him, thinking of the pills that Touma had set aside specifically for that purpose. Seiji had never actually needed them; it used to be so easy for him to fall asleep. "You must be exhausted."   
  
Seiji looked at his friend, his eyes bright in the dim light. Ryo sat on the empty bed and faced him.   
  
"I'm not tired," Seiji answered. "I'm afraid."   
  
"Of what?"   
  
"Of all of this." Seiji looked past Ryo, to the stars barely visible in the late night sky. "If I wake up tomorrow, and I can't use my body again..."   
  
"Don't talk like that," Ryo said quickly. Seiji held his gaze.   
  
"Ryo... you believe in fate, don't you?"   
  
"Of course!" Ryo answered without hesitation. If there was no such thing as "fate," he might not have been born into the Sanada clan, would not have inherited the responsibilities that he did at the same time that four other boys around his age did. He might never have met those four other boys and forged with them bonds that ran stronger and deeper than blood.   
  
"Of course," Seiji echoed emptily. "For us, it's all been written down... by someone, somewhere out there. On our foreheads, on the substance of our being, in the stars... how we were born and how we're going to die." He looked out the window. The dark hours before dawn showed the stars the brightest, boldly but faintly shining over the glow of the cityscape. "The kind of pain we're meant to experience. The names of the ones we would fall in love with, and who would fall in love with us. All of it. But this is different. This.. doesn't feel like it's supposed to happen."   
  
It was chilling to hear Seiji say something like that. But Ryo couldn't scold Seiji for it. The feeling of anxiety that wouldn't go away, the feeling that there was something wrong, very wrong, was something Ryo shared...   
  
Except he didn't want to say it, didn't want to ruin the moment. The feeling came only at the time of Seiji's sudden unexplainable recovery. It was too easy to say the two were related.   
  
Perhaps, if they still had their armor, it would be easier to identify the feeling for what it was. It felt vaguely like the approach of something evil, but somehow the feeling resisted being familiar.   
  
"Don't think too much," Ryo said firmly. "Or think about something else. You can talk to me, if it'll help."   
  
Seiji's eyebrow rose. "We've done nothing but talk all day." Which was not true, exactly - Seiji had spent most of the day writing, pounding furiously and hungrily on his keyboard. That must have felt like "talking", to him. "What's left to talk about?"   
  
The answer came more quickly to Ryo than he could have anticipated: "That story of yours, the one with the evil warlord... what happens next?"   
  
Seiji blinked. The question caught him by surprise. He was not even aware that Ryo had finished reading all the books, though he seemed pleased at the revelation.   
  
The story was close to ending, he told Ryo; it was all mapped out in his head. If he had time tomorrow, Seiji wanted to pick up on the writing again. But since there was no assurance of that, he supposed it was all right to give spoilers.   
  
The strategist and the general became friends. Close friends. Close enough to swear to each other that they would serve under their lord together all their lives, no matter what happened. But the evil warlord's spies and strategists discovered this bond, and they decided to use it to their advantage.   
  
During a truce, the evil warlord launched an all-out attack and captured the general at his hometown. He was tortured for months. The young lord knew only that the general was captured, and became determined to save him. But all that time, the warlord was finding ways to blackmail the strategist directly, issuing demands through spies and secret messengers, promising the general's safe return at the end of every one.   
  
But the strategist knew that the general was being tortured, and started to lose his calm and became desperate. He did what he could to sabotage his own lord's tactics, making decisions that cost entire villages and hundreds of lives.   
  
The general found out about this by accident and, realizing that he was the cause of it all, found a way to kill himself in prison. The strategist found out and became blind with anger. He devised a way to lead an elite army to the warlord's gates himself, but his lord learned of this plan and sent soldiers out to stop him. Though the strategist was dangerous alive, the lord insisted on his safety, so he was imprisoned.   
  
(Again, Ryo remembered his dream. He recalled the young nobleman in chains, the soldiers who had captured him, and the courtiers who passed judgment on him silently from above. Perhaps it was a premonition of some sort. So it was Seiji's story he was dreaming about, after all...?)   
  
The lord, with the help of his two other friends, carried on the fight without the strategist. They were losing, badly, when the strategist recovered and came to their aid. The strategist's clear head helped ensure the victory of their nation and the complete defeat of the warlord. And then...   
  
"What?" Ryo asked, sitting up. "It's over, isn't it? The warlord is defeated."   
  
"Yes," Seiji replied. "But you'll have to tell me how it ends."   
  
Eh?! "What do you mean? It's  _your_  story."   
  
"It's not my story," Seiji said quietly. "It's just my words."   
  
Ryo did not know what that meant. He did not know how to oblige Seiji, either. "I'm not good with things like that," he said with an apologetic chuckle. "Maybe the ending will come to you after you've rested."   
  
Seiji was silent after hearing this. Finally, he said, "Will you sleep here tonight?"   
  
Ryo readily agreed. He could sleep anywhere, and besides, this wasn't the first time.   
  
Within a few minutes of Ryo settling into Touma's bed, sleep started to take over Seiji. It seemed easier for Ryo to fall asleep then, too.   
  
"Ryo..."   
  
He turned to face Seiji. Seiji was on his back, face turned to the sky again.   
  
"Remember your promise."   
  
Ryo didn't need to reply. It was only after he'd said that, that Seiji was able to close his eyes.   
  
  
  
  
  
Seiji made late breakfast, because he woke up first. He was up on his feet and feeling better than he did yesterday, if it was at all possible.   
  
It had already been 24 hours. Seiji's condition had not gotten worse. His routine tests showed that his body continued to function normally. Surely now they could start thinking the miracle will hold.   
  
Ryo wanted to go out. Seiji didn't. He wanted to stay home and write some more. Ryo wanted to go out and find Touma, though he wasn't sure what coming along would do to Seiji.   
  
"I'll call Shin," Ryo decided aloud. Shin stayed in an apartment just a few stations down, so he could come and watch over Seiji while Ryo was out. Wasn't that why he'd gotten the apartment and lent Ryo his car in the first place?   
  
Seiji thought it was a good idea. It would be a surprise for Shin to find him up and about too, and that was certainly worth the wait.   
  
But as Ryo was approaching the phone, it rang. Puzzled, Ryo answered the call.   
  
_"Ryo?"_  the person on the other end greeted grimly.   
  
_Shuu,_  Ryo mouthed silently. Seiji nodded, looking apprehensive for some reason.   
  
"Shuu, what's up?"   
  
_"Something's happened to Shin."_


	13. Chapter 13

Don't tell Shuu I'm coming with you, Seiji instructed - because anything could happen between the front door to their apartment and the hospital. Shuu would worry about me, too, on top of worrying about Shin, and might even leave Shin's side if anything happened.   
  
Ryo said he was sure nothing would happen, but he went along with what Seiji wanted. They had been planning to surprise Shuu anyway - it would just be earlier than they'd expected. He waited for Seiji to finish dressing (there was no need to help him with it this time - it was different, and strange).   
  
Seiji wore a pair of dark glasses and a hooded shirt to hide his hair. It was a haphazard disguise, but it would have to do. Without another word Ryo led him to the car he'd borrowed from Shin.   
  
Ryo drove in silence for the first few minutes. It suddenly felt like there was nothing to say, as if they'd exhausted everything they had to talk about the day before.   
  
...Or as if Seiji was nervous. It may be that he was taking it seriously, this fear that he was going to relapse just as suddenly as he got better.   
  
It wasn't a long drive to the hospital nearest Shin's apartment, however. Thankfully, Seiji spoke first.   
  
"What have you been thinking of doing after... all of this?" he asked softly. "Are you going back to your old job? Your old life? Pretend none of this ever happened?"   
  
"Pretend" was a strong word. Ryo disliked Seiji having to use it.   
  
"To be honest," he answered, "I... I never really thought about it."    
  
But Ryo  _did_  think about it. And quite often, in fact, during the first couple of months of his stay in Touma's apartment - when he and Touma still argued, loudly and emotionally, about the arrangements that needed to be made after Seiji was gone.   
  
The very idea of Seiji's passing deeply upset Touma, so Ryo simply quit bringing it up. Unbeknownst to him, he stopped thinking about it, too. He had stopped thinking about how he was going to get back to his old life. If he was going to get a more regular, higher-paying job that would help him recover the savings he had depleted in order to help out. Or if he was going to look up colleagues for exhibits and freelance opportunities and stick with photography, even if it paid little.   
  
He didn't realize it, but he had placed his faith completely in Touma, in his promise that he was doing all he could to save Seiji's life. Now that Touma had succeeded, now that Seiji was all right, just trying to think back to his old concerns tired Ryo out.    
  
What was waiting for him after this...?   
  
He decided to avoid the question by throwing it back. "What about you, Seiji? What've you got planned? A place you'd like to go to, maybe? A new start?"   
  
A mirthless smile touched Seiji's lips. He didn't answer right away. Ryo remembered then that Seiji was not really the energetic, try-new-things type. One start was plenty for him.   
  
"Home. I'd like to go home."   
  
Ryo should have expected that answer. It had been five years since Seiji had seen anyone from his family, besides his Oneesan - the only one who knew about his illness.   
  
Seiji talked about wanting to see his grandfather again. And his parents. Even his little sister, who could be in turns annoying and endearing, and who had been heartbroken when he left and refused to see him since.   
  
And then hold a sword again, perhaps. And spar. And then sit in the cool shade of the Date compound trees, in the light of the morning sun shining through the leaves.   
  
And after that? Ryo asked. After you've come home... what?   
  
Seiji was silent.   
  
Ryo started to hate himself for not putting more thought into it. Now that living with Touma and Seiji had become a big part of his daily routines, he had become complacent, had become unaware of what being away from them would do to  _him._   
  
All of his important possessions, which were not many, had been moved to his room in Touma's apartment. He had become accustomed to waking up very early in the morning and waking up at odd hours of the night to administer medication. And to having someone greet him back with "Good morning" or "Good night", one way or another - with a nod or a smile or the light squeeze of a hand on his wrist.   
  
He had bought a telescope. It was not for him. But for some reason, he had imagined it was going to be part of his life as well.   
  
It felt like there was nothing after all of this.   
  
  
  
  
  
They had to move quickly; Seiji's disguise wasn't going to keep him safe from the public eye for long. Now that life was breathed back into him, it was easier for any man off the street to recognize him from his TV and magazine interviews. He would normally be able to handle a crowd of admirers, but not when he was in a hurry to see a friend.    
  
The only people in the ICU waiting room were two young people, both looking distraught: Shuu, and a pretty girl with soulful eyes. Ryo knew who she was, even if they had never met: Shin had spoken of her at their last get-together. They both stood when Ryo entered the room.   
  
"Here they are," Shuu said aside to the girl. He strode forward and greeted Ryo with a grim but energetic handshake. Seiji entered the room a few paces behind Ryo and Shuu nodded politely at him, unable to recognize him for a moment.   
  
Then when realization dawned, Shuu froze.   
  
"What - " He looked from Ryo to Seiji and back. "How - "   
  
Seiji took off his dark glasses and brushed his hood back, exposing the unusual bright yellow of his hair. The girl's eyes widened. Anyone could see she recognized him, but was too polite to overtly show her excitement.   
  
"Yoko-san," Seiji said with a bow of greeting. "Shin has said many great things about you. It's good to meet you finally. And Shuu." He turned to his stunned friend with a mirthless smile. "You haven't visited lately. Law school and the restaurants still keeping you busy?"   
  
For a fleeting second Shuu looked like he was deciding whether to laugh looudly and tackle Seiji to the ground or to yell and land him a punch in the face.   
  
In the end he decided to laugh loudly and tackle Seiji into a nearby sofa, exhibiting a bit more presence of mind.   
  
Ryo's impulse was to rush to hold Shuu back, worried he might hurt Seiji. But Seiji laughed and traded insults with his loud, heavy friend as he put up a good fight in their impromptu play wrestle. Shuu got hold of his faculties quickly and was able to pull himself off Seiji before he was able to break something. He pulled Seiji up as well, but the touchy-feely Shuu seemed to have trouble letting his friend go; his rough hands checked Seiji's face and body for signs of damage, while Seiji feigned annoyance and batted him away.   
  
It was just like old times, Ryo noticed, with some surprise. His friends were so casual with each other, so at ease together. Could it always be like this? Could it be just like before?   
  
"Wait, it's just the two of you?" Shuu craned his neck, looked past Ryo and Seiji's heads. "Where's Touma?"   
  
Ryo shrugged. "Not answering his phone again," he reported.   
  
"Why's that guy always off somewhere?" Shuu growled. "We could use him now, he could help us figure this out. The cops said an anonymous caller tipped them off about Shin yesterday. A man."   
  
Seiji and Ryo looked at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. Neither of them said it aloud.   
  
"They thought it was a prank at first, because when the paramedics came to Shin's apartment, the door was locked and no one was answering," Shuu continued. "So they decided to check in with the landlord's help, right? And they saw Shin lying there - right in the middle of the floor, like he just lost balance and fell. Just like that."   
  
"What happened to him?" Ryo was finally able to ask. Shuu grimaced and shook his head.   
  
"Yoko and I don't even know, man. The doctors just said... they said Shin's immune system just stopped working right, and his organs started shutting down. They've never seen anything like it. He's been in and out of intensive care since he got here."   
  
A heavy silence descended on the room while this sank in. Seiji turned very still.   
  
"Damn that Touma," Shuu spat. "He's the doctor, why isn't he here?"   
  
"More important," Seiji interrupted, "why are  _you_  here, Yoko-san? Shin told us that you do your research on the field, and that's a bit of a drive from here, isn't it?"   
  
"I was the one the hospital called first," the girl meekly explained. "I volunteered to be Shin-kun's emergency contact while he was living in Tokyo. I already called up Shin-kun's family, and I had Shuu-kun's number, too, so I called him. It turns out he was already in the area."   
  
"I was coming over to visit anyway," Shuu said somewhat absently. Then to Ryo, specifically, he said "I need to talk to you." His voice almost commanded.   
  
"All right," Ryo answered, and allowed himself to be led out of the room by a grip on his arm.   
  
He glanced back over his shoulder at Seiji, who looked worriedly back at him. Realizing that his presence wasn't called for outside the room, he turned to the girl called Yoko with a wan assuring smile, and took over the atmosphere in the waiting room while his two friends vanished from sight.   
  
  
  
  
Shuu's hand remained on Ryo's arm even after they'd turned a corner of the hospital corridor, and they were the only two people around.   
  
"I had a dream last night," he said with uncharacteristic quietness to Ryo. "That's why I took time out to see Shin. It's like... I mean, I don't want to overthink it or anything, but ..."   
  
Ryo laid his free hand on Shuu's shoulder: a gesture of encouragement. "What is it, Shuu?"   
  
Shuu was clearly reluctant to speak. It mattered that this was a person who never hid his feelings very well. "I dreamed... I was standing on a port I don't recognize. An old-style port, you know? With old-style ships. I was me, except... not me. I was wearing this armor from the feudal ages. And there was someone there..."   
  
It wasn't so much the effort of describing as it was the memory itself that troubled Shuu. Ryo could tell this much. He was still trying to figure it out.   
  
"It was Shin. Only... not Shin. I knew it was Shin, but it didn't look like him, and that wasn't the name he went by. He was some fancy-ass military man, I dunno. I just remember he owned the port. I held on to his arm like this." Ryo wondered if the pressure was as urgent as it was in the dream - the pressure of someone telling a dear friend not to leave.   
  
"Then he smiled," Shuu continued. "He said 'I have to do this for him.' I think I was waiting for an answer to something I asked, but he never gave it. He just... left."   
  
It was a sad dream. It may not have seemed so from the way he told it, but Ryo knew his friend well enough to know when he was troubled.   
  
"You know my family, we put a lot of stock in dreams, and things like that," Shuu started to say, but trailed off.   
  
Ryo planted his hands on Shuu's shoulders. "Shuu... Shin's going to get through this. That wasn't a goodbye, that was just a dream. That's all."   
  
Shuu let out a loud sigh. "Yeah," he declared. "Yeah, of course!" He drew himself up with a determined grunt. "This is Shin we're talking about, right?"   
  
Ryo clapped him on the back, glad that his words had some effect. "This is Shin. He'll get through this," he said with finality. And decided not to add  _Whatever 'this' is._   
  
  
  
  
On their way back, Shuu had asked Ryo not to tell Seiji about the dream. It might disturb him, Shuu said; Seiji could be the superstitious sort, too. How was Seiji doing, by the way? How come he was up and about all of a sudden, as if he hadn't even gotten sick? What was going on?   
  
Ryo simply stated the truth: He didn't know. He did not know what was going on. And Touma was nowhere to be found, so no one could explain - all that had happened to Seiji, and all that was happening to Shin.   
  
All Ryo had to go on was the nagging feeling of something big occurring beneath his scope of vision, and it made him greatly uneasy. Shuu admitted that he felt the same, and he, too, had a hard time identifying if it was a  _good_  or  _bad_  feeling.   
  
When the two friends got back, an intern was waiting in the room to inform them that Yoko and Seiji were already inside to see Shin - Shin was still not awake, but somewhat stabilized. The intern said "somewhat" because he admitted Shin was behaving erratically - he was not showing the expected responses to the treatments being administered. The doctors were every bit as lost as his friends were.   
  
Ryo and Shuu hurried to join Yoko and Seiji inside the ICU. The four found themselves hovering by Shin's bed like grim angels, unable to take their eyes off him, unable to be anywhere else.   
  
It seemed as if all the color had been wrung out from Shin. His face, his neck, the few parts of him that weren't obscured by tubes and wires and cloth, were a morbid shade of gray. Even his hair, which he was always very careful about, vain as he could be, seemed to be dull and lifeless. It was as if they were looking down not at Shin, but at a drained shell that looked like him.   
  
"This is wrong," Ryo heard Seiji mutter beneath his breath. But Seiji said nothing more, and Ryo didn't feel like drawing it out.   
  
  
  
  
  
Shin's family and colleagues came to visit later in the day. Ryo, Shuu, Seiji and Yoko made way for the other well-wishers - they needed to take Seiji away from the public eye as well, lest a media circus was suddenly raised over his presence. There seemed to be no end to the people coming in and out of the hospital. Shin's sister had even raised her voice at the doctors, who couldn't adequately explain the cause of her brother's suffering. It was all that Ryo and Shuu could do to assure her everyone was already doing their best.   
  
Shin's four first visitors spent time clustered together in a quieter part of the hospital, hoping that there would be some improvements made during their stay. It turned out that Yoko, Shin's fellow researcher and girlfriend of over a year now, was a huge fan of Seiji's writings. She took up classical literature electives in university, she said, because his novels inspired her so. She knew that Seiji was Shin's close childhood friend, but never even thought to ask Shin to get her an autograph or anything. Her propriety amused Seiji, who'd had to fend off obsessive fangirls since his early teens. Plus, her presence helped wear away some of the tension.   
  
Shuu left the group for a bit to check on Shin. He came back with a puzzled expression on his face. "The hospital said there's someone on the phone for you," he said to Ryo. "Won't say who, but says it's urgent. And confidential. He's called a few times now." His gaze turned sharp, demanding silently to be informed.   
  
In his gut, Ryo knew there was no time to explain. And so did Seiji, it seemed by the way he looked at Ryo pleading  _Let me come with you._   
  
Ryo smiled and brushed a lock of Seiji's hair from his forehead. The hood he wore fell back a little because of this, and Seiji's violet eyes, large on his skeletal face, shone without mercy. But Ryo didn't have the luxury of time to be defeated by them now...   
  
  
  
  
  
"Touma?" he greeted.   
  
_"Should've gotten you a mobile,"_  the person on the other side replied. The voice sounded ragged, old, almost unrecognizable.  _"Or at least left a message. Sorry."_   
  
"Never mind that," Ryo answered coldly. He wasn't in the mood to be grateful that Touma found a way to get in touch with him, but neither was he in the mood for another fight. "So you know about Shin? You knew we were going to be here? When are you coming by?"   
  
As could be expected, his questions were completely set aside.  _"Ryo, I need your help. I was hoping I wouldn't, but... you're the only one I can trust now."_   
  
Without waiting for Ryo to reply, he started giving instructions - first, he had to bring a car. Any car. He had to go to the freeway, then take these turns to get to this bridge and get to this place by this time of the day. And he had to keep it all a secret.   
  
_"Especially from Seiji."_  He didn't need to say it. Not to Ryo. If there was one person who had to be kept in the dark about Touma's dealings up to the bitter end, it was of course the boy he loved and had been living with for years.   
  
"So what about Seiji," Ryo stated, rather than asked or argued. "I can't just leave him here, Shuu won't know what to do with him in case he relapses. And what about Shin?"   
  
There was a sigh, and a silence at the other end of the line. Ryo envisioned Touma closing his dark blue eyes, composing himself before delivering the one reply that would answer all questions and resolve everything neatly:   
  
_"Leave them. Stop wasting time and do as I say."_   
  
The answer chilled Ryo. It wasn't something Touma would say, and already it didn't seem like it was the Touma he knew who was speaking to him.   
  
Just as he was gathering his wits to reply, the person at the other end of the line said, in the weariest voice,  _"I promise, Ryo... it'll be over soon."_   
  
Without saying goodbye, Ryo hung up the phone. He knew at the back of his head that wasn't the best way to end the conversation - maybe Touma had more things to say, or maybe there was still some way to ferret out some answers.   
  
But he had not seen Touma in far too long, and he was so very tired of maybes.   
  
  
  
  
If he was going to make it to the place Touma had said, at the hour he'd specified, Ryo only had time to leave a quick apology and some hurried instructions.   
  
He left Seiji in Shuu's care. Shuu was to bring Seiji back to their apartment before dark, and make sure he wasn't going to overstrain himself or miss meals or get discovered by the mass media or do anything especially stupid. Once again he ignored Shuu's demands for an explanation. He only said he was confident Shin was going to be all right, because he had friends and family watching over him. He had his sister, for one thing - and Yoko.   
  
He pressed the keys to Seiji and Touma's apartment in Shuu's hand. "Tell Shin I'm sorry I have to go," he said, then started to stride off.   
  
But Seiji called him back. Ryo did not turn back, but he found himself turning around and waiting while Seiji strode over to him alone, hood pulled down and dark glasses off. There was no one else around, but still - if Ryo were in his right mind, he should have run from that and spared them all the risk.   
  
Ryo was the one who spoke first: "Touma wants me to see him."   
  
If Seiji was surprised, it did not register at all. He continued to hold Ryo's gaze.   
  
"He didn't say why. Or say much else. But he said I shouldn't tell you. And he said I shouldn't take you with me."   
  
Seiji simply stood there, listened, then nodded solemnly.   
  
Ryo almost couldn't bear how calmly Seiji was taking all of this. If he were in Seiji's place, he would be railing. He would be throwing things against walls, threatening people to tell him what the hell was up. Why he was being excluded. Why everything seemed to revolve around him and yet did not  _involve_  him in the least.   
  
He supposed... Seiji was just that amazing. And deserving of more than this. More than what Touma was putting him through, certainly. More than everything he'd suffered so far.   
  
Ryo stepped up to Seiji and bowed his head, fixed his gaze on the floor. Seiji lowered his gaze as well and allowed Ryo to approach. At such a close distance, Seiji still seemed so frail, so paperthin.   
  
"Listen," Seiji said softly, "if I know Touma, he's calling for you only because he needs you to do something for him. Something he can't do for himself. He'll trust you to do what he wants." His lips stretched into a smile. "I'll trust you to do what's right."   
  
"Seiji," Ryo said in almost a whisper, "I just want you to know... Touma and I... it's not - "   
  
"Don't," Seiji answered. "You don't have to."   
  
Without looking up, Seiji reached up and for a lingering second, seemed like he was going to touch Ryo's face. But he didn't. His fingers stayed in the air, close to the tips of Ryo's black hair, or the skin on the side of his neck.   
  
And when Seiji put his hand back down, it didn't touch any part of Ryo at all - simply balled loosely into a fist at his side.   
  
"Just remember."    
  
With those as his parting words, Seiji turned and walked back to where Shuu and Yoko were waiting. His back was straight but it still seemed to Ryo as if each step he took was heavy, and took too much from him.   
  
Ryo couldn't stay any longer. If he could not leave now, he could never leave.


	14. Chapter 14

"Remember"... such a simple word, and yet so heavy. Ryo bore it on his back as he drove to where Touma waited, many miles out of the city.   
  
It was going to be several hours' drive. Touma had given him directions to a forest near a coastal village - an isolated place that a medical doctor probably wouldn't want to set up a laboratory in, for lack of access to equipment and supplies.    
  
Ryo knew well enough that he wasn't going to some secret lab Touma had somehow set up. But he didn't know what else to expect.   
  
He had plenty of time to think, and so he thought back to the things Seiji had said yesterday. One of them was this:   
  
_"On the day I got back from the hospital, I had a dream. I dreamed my story was finished. And that the strategist was able to rescue the general safely and they both went back to their friends and everyone lived happily ever after._

"But I felt very strongly that it wasn't right. It wasn't their ending. And when I woke up, all I knew was that I had to talk to Touma. I had to tell him it wasn't supposed to end that way. That was why I was going to kill myself trying to reach the phone." Seiji had laughed bitterly.  _"But looking back... that would've been a funny thing to say to him, wouldn't it?"_  
  
Seiji was sad. It was a weird thing to be right after experiencing a miracle. But Ryo didn't hold it against him, as he wasn't the one the miracle had happened  _to_ , and he was in no position to judge whatever Seiji was going through.  
  
 _"I messed up,"_  he confided,  _"with Touma. You know that before he met us, he never even thought he needed friends. He thought he was going to be perfectly fine, going through life envied and hated for being smarter than everyone else. But when he got friends, he realized it wasn't enough to just be smarter than everyone else. It was a good thing that he met us."_  Seiji looked away.  _"But it wasn't a good thing that I kissed him. I realized that too late. He was ready to go through life without ever knowing love. I made a mistake."_  
  
Ryo didn't understand. Why is falling in love ever a mistake?  
  
Love changes you, Seiji explained, in ways you never expect. It reminds you of everyone who's ever hurt you, and everything you've ever felt for anyone else, and bundles all these wicked emotions up into just one person. It teaches you how deeply you can feel and how much you can sacrifice for the sake of that person - and sometimes you realize there is no end to how deeply you can feel and how much you can sacrifice, and it scares you.  
  
Ryo listened to his more eloquent friend, because there was no other way for him to know. He wasn't sure he had ever been in love in the way Seiji described - he made it sound a little like torture.  
  
Ryo has certainly felt like he could die for his friends, in fact for the whole damn world, but when things came down to it, he didn't find it scary. Not one bit.  
  
And he might have felt differently toward one or two special people in his life, but the love he felt for them never felt like that - and maybe it would never feel like that, ever. The thought made Ryo a little sad... especially when he thought that his dearest friends had experienced it. Seiji had experienced it enough to describe it in such vivid terms, certainly - and if he was to be believed, Touma had experienced it, too. Was experiencing it still.  
  
 _"He's too young. We forget that he's the youngest of us. His feelings have changed him. He no longer listens. He's becoming less and less like the Touma we know."_  
  
It made Touma's behavior make a lot of sense. Used to be, he was the one level-headed enough to tell others when they were behaving like jackasses. Now it was as if he had an impenetrable wall around him that made it impossible for anyone else to tell him he was being a jackass.  
  
 _"I'm sorry. For everything. Will you, at least, forgive me?"_  
  
Ryo would do no such thing. He was in no position to do so. He asked instead, Why do you blame yourself? Did you want all this to happen? Don't you love him back?  
  
Seiji smiled sadly.  _"I do,"_  he readily answered.  _"That's why I can't forgive myself."_  
  
  
  
  
Ryo may not have expected a lab, but he certainly wasn't expecting a cave. It was a natural cave, with a narrow unimpressive entrance; anyone could easily miss it passing by.  
  
Though it wasn't as if many people would pass by. There were no paved roads leading to it; Ryo had to park Shin's car at the entrance of a forest and walk a good distance toward the cave. He thought it was weird for a forest: no birds, no small animals, and it didn't seem as if there had been any for some time.  
  
This wasn't good news: no one is ever up to anything lawful in a cave. Smugglers and pirates and kidnappers use caves.  
  
Touma was waiting at the entrance, arms folded across his chest and leaning back against the rock. He wore a button-down shirt and denim jeans - clothes that he'd bought during their last trip downtown, Ryo recognized. His shoulders were hunched slightly, as they would on someone who had been bent over something for far too long. He needed a shave, a meal and maybe a good night's sleep. Or several.  
  
"Am I late?" Ryo hadn't meant that to sound as dry as it did.  
  
Touma simply turned and walked into the tunnel weather-carved into rock. "Follow me," he said. Ryo obliged without complaint.  
  
It wasn't a long walk. The tunnel was unremarkable.  
  
It was what was at the end of it that took Ryo's breath away.  
  
There was a circular machine big enough to fill the room. It was built like a computer with its guts torn out: all wires, nuts and bolts, and pieces of metal haphazardly welded together. One could even see the electric currents running from one node to another - it looked unsafe to even be near.  
  
Various tools and bits of metal were scattered all over the cavern floor; whoever had been busy with this machine didn't have the time or the inclination to clean up.  
  
The most noticeable feature of the machine was not its size, however, but the five balls of bright light that mystically hovered over crude dishlike receptacles. They seemed out of place on such a modern aberration, and Ryo could almost swear they didn't belong there, except he'd seen his share of strange things in his life...  
  
There were incandescent lamps set up all around the rock, but most of the light in the cavern came from the machine itself - specifically, the five balls of light, which glowed red, blue, light blue, green and orange. Though the balls of light were all perfect spheres of the same size, they weren't similar in brightness. The light blue one was very dim, while the green one seemed to flicker. The red, orange and blue ones shone at about the same strength.  
  
Ryo looked over at Touma. There was no expression on his face save for weariness while he looked at the machine. His hands lay at his sides and it was only then Ryo noticed that they were shaking slightly, stained with grease and other chemicals.  
  
"Touma, what is this," Ryo demanded. His voice was soft with wonder and dread. "What's going on?"  
  
Touma left his side and moved closer to the machine, rested one trembling hand on a panel. Then he turned and faced Ryo.  
  
"This," he said without pride, without any other emotion, "is us."  
  
  
  
  
  
The explanation was simple, Touma began:  
  
A decade ago, Touma found a manuscript left behind by Yagyuu Nasuti's grandfather, which spoke of a way for humans to harness youja energy. The writing was mostly theoretical, offering no practical answers, saying only that as long as there was energy from the youjakai wandering around in the world of humans, there was sure to be a way to manipulate it.  
  
However, the procedure would require extreme precision and a great deal of time to perfect. And should anyone attempt it with currently existing technologies, it was likely to emerge unstable.  
  
Like many of the things Touma had read at the Yagyuu household, he'd committed it to memory, not even knowing at the time that it would ever be useful. It was just an interesting read then, something with which to pass the time. But it had been several years since, and many of the things that were technologically impossible then, could be accomplished now.   
  
It was a long shot and Touma hadn't wanted to consider it, but he had stopped making progress on his research on Seiji's illness. It started to look more and more like an alternative... and then the final blow came when he lost the job that gave him access to all the medical equipment and materials he needed.  
  
Then it became the only way.  
  
There were no more youja in the human world, and the gates between worlds had been sealed shut. Opening another door was a task that went beyond even Touma's abilities. But there  _was_  a supply of youja energy in the human world, even if it didn't come from the monsters the boys had to fight back when they were Troopers: it came from the Troopers themselves.  
  
Even with the armor gone, they still had youja within them, similar to a power source. Or, more appropriately: a life force. It continued to set the five of them apart from the rest of the human race, although it had been all but rendered useless because of the disappearance of the armor -  
  
It lay inside each of them, dormant, waiting to be tapped.  
  
"We were born with youja energy," Touma explained, "it's tied to our life force. That was why only  _we_  could wield the armor, and no one else, not even people from our own families. It was a matter of birthright, though not simply a matter of blood.  
  
"And what do you think happens, Ryo, when we die? When our life force is depleted - where does all the youja energy go?"  
  
Ryo shook his head. "How would I know?" was his retort.  
  
"It leaves our bodies," Touma answered flatly. "And then it hangs in the air, waiting for the next person who will be born with the ability to receive it. Like all forms of energy, it can't be created or destroyed, it can only be transferred or converted. Do you understand? It means that like any form of energy, the youja energy inside us can be captured, manipulated and contained. And I've found a way to do it." He placed his hand on another panel. "This machine... that's what it does. It collects, transfers and converts energy.  _Our_  energy."  
  
Ryo searched Touma's face for signs of this being an elaborate prank - he felt like he had been doing this since he came, hoping it was all as unreal as it should have been.  _Tell me this is as ridiculous as it sounds,_  he hoped.  _Tell me I'm too stupid to get the joke._  
  
"You're saying," Ryo said tentatively, "you've found a way to take the energy inside our bodies... and transfer it. To where? Into the machine?"  
  
"Not the machine," Touma gravely relayed, "There are no other vessels that can handle youja energy on this earth, only our bodies. Artifacts like our armor would take ages and expertise to do - expertise that I'll admit I don't have." Ryo found that hard to believe; if Touma could build a machine that could take out energy from living bodies and put them into other living bodies, chances were he already had the required "expertise" in spades.  
  
Touma came clean about one other thing: as soon as he got the prototype up and working, he had tried it on Shuu. He was confident that Shuu's life force was strong enough to withstand a test run (as much as he had wanted to, he couldn't try it on himself, because he needed to be in good condition to perform the experiments). But once Shuu confirmed his theories, on that day when he failed to visit Seiji at the hospital because he suddenly and mysteriously "got sick," Touma knew his prototype was functional. And that with some fine-tuning, any one of them could transfer their life force into Seiji and back.  
  
What he did not count on, however, was how returning the life force to the original owner made Seiji even weaker. When Shuu's life force was returned to him, Seiji ceased being able to walk. It made no sense. How come Seiji couldn't just stay well, how come it seemed as if Seiji gave up more of his energy every time the process reversed?  
  
But even if it didn't make sense, Touma understood one thing: he'd taken too much from Shin to make Seiji "well" again, and he couldn't give that energy back without putting too much strain on Seiji. Until a solution was worked out, Shin would have to remain in a coma, his life force kept to a bare minimum. No medical procedure would be able to revive him, just as no medical procedure in the world could have possibly cured Seiji's illness - his life force would need to be returned to him via the machine.  
  
And Touma had already worked out the solution. He knew exactly what had to be done to make things right, or so he told Ryo.  
  
  
  
  
At any point, Ryo could've tried to knock Touma out, drag him all the way back to Shin's car, and drive back to Tokyo. Or he could've found a bunch of loose cables, tied Touma up, hitched him over his shoulder, and carried him all the way home, kicking and screaming, so he could face Seiji and Shuu and whoever else might be able to make him see reason. That might have solved matters. In fact, that was Ryo's first impulse.  
  
But he knew that acting on impulse would place him at a disadvantage with Touma. Knowing Touma, he would have already thought at least two moves ahead. If this Touma were backed against the wall any further, Ryo didn't doubt Touma would put up a fight, and maybe even overpower him. And then where would that leave them both?  
  
Touma had already built this  _thing_ , this monstrous device that played with lives, and Ryo needed to figure out what was to be done with it. He doubted very much that the use of force would make for a positive outcome in this situation.  
  
(Touma had said something about their life forces leaving their bodies to "hang in the air" after they were dead - if this machine were destroyed, would the same thing happen?)  
  
This was what Touma had called him down for: he needed someone to operate the machine while he went back to Seiji. He had to show himself to Seiji, let Seiji know everything was all right.  
  
In the meantime, there were certain instructions to follow.  
  
"I'll be leaving my mobile with you. When you get my call, just press the button below the blue sphere." Touma gestured to the said button. It was comically huge, Ryo would have to have been an imbecile to miss it. There was one for each receptacle beneath each sphere. "The blue sphere will fade out, and the green and light blue spheres will light up. It'll take some time, maybe over 30 minutes, before the blue sphere fades out completely, and color is restored to the green and light blue spheres.  
  
"You'll notice that the light blue sphere will reach maximum brightness very quickly. This is Shin's sphere, and all his original energy will be restored. In the meantime, the blue sphere will start fading, and the green sphere, Seiji's, will start growing brighter."  
  
The blue sphere was Touma's - that much Ryo worked out. And the red one was his, and the orange one Shuu's. It was a comfortable pattern, though he did find it quaint that it hadn't changed in all this time.  
  
"Don't do anything else after that," Touma stressed. "The blue sphere has to discharge completely. That's the only time youja energy will be trapped within the green sphere - and presumably, that is when the green sphere will start being able to function on its own."  
  
"What happens if I do anything else?" Ryo asked. "Like press the button a second time?"  
  
"The process will be stalled. I'll slip into a coma, like Shin." Touma was straightforward, clinical, as he said this. "I'd be fine with that, if I were only sure it would be enough to recharge the green sphere. But it's not, as you've seen in Shin's case. Another sphere has to be completely drained for that to happen."  
  
"But if the blue sphere is completely drained... what's going to happen to you?"  
  
Ryo already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it from Touma. More than that, he wanted to know if Touma was going to lie.  
  
Touma didn't lie. In fact, he didn't answer. He walked around to the other side of the machine, casually tinkered with a panel he'd installed there.  
  
"The important thing is, the green sphere will have its own light again," Touma eventually said. "Seiji will be brought back to perfect health."  
  
 _"Are you insane?!"_  
  
He circled the machine to get to Touma, and Touma made no move to flee.  
  
"What about your parents? Your research? Touma - you're young! You can do so much!" He seized Touma by the shoulders. "Seiji's not all you've got to live for!"  
  
Touma looked at him without seeing him. It seemed to be the only way for him to look Ryo in the eye directly.  
  
He pulled away.  
  
"I want you to know something, Ryo," he said in a firm voice, "I messed up. I don't even know where to start telling you about the crazy things I've done." Sounding fiercer, angry almost, he proceeded to ask, "If I said I'd killed someone just so I could keep on the way I did, would you believe me?"  
  
This wasn't a confession. This was a challenge. Touma continued to look at him, tense as if anticipating the fall of some invisible axe.  
  
But Ryo wasn't about to play into this.  
  
"No," he said with absolute conviction. "You wouldn't. Kill anyone. Not intentionally."  
  
But even as he said this he found himself looking back... and his thoughts led him to the time when Touma came home late one night bruised and bleeding, claiming that he was in a car accident. Ryo thought at the time that it was safe to attribute it to the shock of having Seiji almost die, but things became different; Touma became noticeably more distant, more taciturn, more serious.  
  
What was that night all about, after all? And all those other times when Touma left?  
  
What Ryo said made Touma visibly relax, though he looked no happier. "That answer," he said miserably, "is why people like me don't deserve friends like you."  
  
Ryo took a step forward, suddenly torn between wanting to throw his arms around his distressed friend and wanting to whack same friend upside the head.  
  
"Touma," he pronounced, "I don't care right now about the things you've done. We can't do anything to change them anymore. What matters is what you're planning to do next." He stepped closer. "Seiji wouldn't want to be well again... not at that cost."  
  
"That's why we'll never tell him."  
  
Ryo sighed loudly. He obviously wasn't going to win this argument, but damned if he was going to lose his temper at least.  
  
"Ryo... think of Shin." Touma wasn't going to let up, either. "If you don't do it, he's going to remain unconscious. The longer you wait, the weaker his body becomes. And should you choose to bring Shin back without draining another person's sphere, Seiji's condition is going to get worse. Much worse. Do you want that on your conscience?"  
  
Ryo came to a full stop. Before now he'd been completely convinced that he was doing the right thing - would continue to do the right thing until the very end, at least for his friends.  
  
Now Touma was placing the life of a friend which he stole in Ryo's hands. And Ryo was suddenly responsible for it.  
  
This was wrong. Wrong and horrible.  
  
"Why is the only way to recharge the green sphere, to completely drain another?" Ryo demanded. "Isn't there a way to take a little from all of us, all at once?"  
  
Touma shook his head. "This machine can only drain one sphere at a time. I've tried taking a little from each sphere all at once, and it's just not possible. Maybe if I have more time..."  
  
"We'll  _get_  time." He had to sound like he believed himself. "As much as you need."  
  
"Time," Touma echoed with a bleak chuckle, as if uttering the name of his worst enemy. "If I really had all the time I needed, I wouldn't have resorted to this."  
  
Touma stepped up closer to Ryo. He laid a shaking hand on Ryo's cheek, and Ryo stood still, amazed at how warm it turned out to be.  
  
"Ryo. This is the last thing I will ever ask of you.  _Give me this._ "  
  
  
  
  
Ryo found it unsettling, walking with a childhood friend in a place far from civilization, discussing matters of life and death, and weird science that should've gone way over his head.  
  
But he understood Touma's explanation. Only too well. There were only a few important things he didn't get.  
  
"Why did it have to be Shin?" he asked quietly.  
  
Touma closed his eyes and did not reply for the longest time. At first Ryo thought he was going to stay that way until they got back to the car.  
  
"Shin would understand," Touma eventually said in monotone. "If I'd told him about it, and asked him if he was willing to go through with it, for Seiji's sake - he would've said yes."  
  
This reply angered Ryo. Of all of them, Shin was the one who trusted the most. Shin was the one who  _gave_  the most. That was Shin's way.   
  
Touma made it sound like he was aware of this, but took advantage of it anyway.  
  
 _"Any one_  of us would have said yes," Ryo argued.  _"I_  would've said yes, Touma! Why couldn't it have been me?"  
  
"It couldn't have been you." Touma muttered.  
  
"Why not??" his voice was raised.  
  
 _"Because Seiji likes you!"_  
  
Touma's voice rang throughout the silent forest, louder than anything, louder even than the rush of anger that throbbed in Ryo's ears.  
  
Ryo stood dumbfounded.  
  
Touma's shoulders slouched again, making him look smaller, more defenseless.  
  
"He's always liked you," Touma said in a low voice again. "From the start."  
  
Saying this seemed to sap the strength from his knees. Touma staggered, and Ryo caught him before he lost his balance altogether. On impulse Touma's hands shot up to grab his friend's shoulders. The next action of pushing Ryo away had no force behind it, and meant nothing.  
  
Ryo pulled Touma close to steady him. Touma was shaking slightly in his embrace. His weight kept Ryo from dragging them both back to their feet.  
  
"Why do you think I even called you?" Touma continued weakly, close to Ryo's ear. "I knew you were going to offer to stay and help, and I knew Seiji was going to hate me if I let you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him helpless. All he ever wanted was to be beside you,  _protecting you_. It was - " He swallowed. It was an effort for him to speak. "It was why he agreed to live in with me. Because I promised I was going to make him better. Good as new."  
  
Touma's voice had turned ragged. This meant he was trying not to cry. Ryo knew it well, but had never heard it on Touma, not even when they were children and tears came more easily.  
  
"Besides," Touma continued, "you being there worked out for everyone, didn't it? Whether I failed or succeeded, you were there. He could spend more time with you. Just like he always wanted."  
  
"But Seiji doesn't..." He held Touma at arm's length. He hadn't counted on sounding so gentle. Maybe gentleness was not what was needed right now. "How do you even know? Have you  _asked_  him?"  
  
"I don't have to. I worked it out long ago." Touma smiled at him, with a rare fondness. "You really are a complete idiot, aren't you? All those books, all that stuff he's written - they were all letters, addressed to _you._ "  
  
"That's not true."  
  
But even as Ryo said it, he knew it was useless. Even with a shaking voice, Touma spoke with the certainty of someone who had hidden a secret for far too long, and was finally being hollowed out.  
  
"Touma. Seiji likes  _you_. You've lived with him for years. Don't you even know that one simple thing?"  
  
The closer the distance, the harder it was for Touma to look Ryo in the eye. It had been like that for a while, Ryo realized - it had been this way between them for the last five years.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Touma said emptily. "This is as much as I can do for him. After this, I can get out of everybody's hair. But you..." Then he smiled. It came to Ryo that he had not seen Touma smile in a very long time. "You can make him happy. Happier than I've ever made him. I'm sure of  _that_ , at least."  
  
"Stop," Ryo said feebly. He rose to his feet, lifting Touma to his. He slung one of Touma's arms over his shoulders so he could carry him more easily.  
  
"You're that kind, Ryo," Touma kept on saying. "Anyone would be happy with you."  
  
  
  
  
  
The rest of the way was long and torturous. Touma weighed on him like a suit of armor, one he never remembered being that heavy before.  
  
You just need to rest, he kept telling Touma. You haven't eaten or slept in days, have you? I'm taking you home, and that's the end of it. You're going to get all the rest you need, and we're going to forget all about this machine, because there's a way to fix everything  _without_  this machine, and we're going to find it.  
  
Touma said nothing. Not for the first time that day, Ryo felt like he wasn't even listening.  
  
When they got back to the car, Touma spent his remaining strength eating and drinking the emergency supplies stashed away in Shin's car. Shin kept a box of biscuits and an unopened bottle of distilled water in the glove compartment, which Ryo thought were charming but useless until they suddenly seemed able to save someone's life.  
  
Then Touma slept. There wasn't even a warning. He sat on the ground with his back against the flank of the car, closed his eyes and drifted off.   
  
And given that Touma slept like the dead, Ryo knew that at this point he could have picked his friend up, thrown him into the backseat, and driven off, all without a fuss.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
He wasn't sure why. A part of him still nagged that it was a good idea. And wasn't that what Seiji had asked him to do - not what Touma wanted, but the right thing?  
  
Maybe too many things, too many people have "messed up," including him.  
  
At the time it just felt more right to sit here, keeping watch over his vulnerable friend, while stars began to appear in the night sky.  
  
As the darkness grew, the stars grew brighter. The night chill was making its presence known as well. Ryo found himself being beset with memories, like the nights he and Touma and Seiji sat outside at the balcony with the telescope, and the way the stars over the city looked outside the window of the room that Touma and Seiji shared.  
  
But most of all, he remembered the lanky teenage boy who for some weird reason liked spending his nights in treetops and rooftops and high places, who watched the stars with such pure joy. The boy who never turned him away even when Ryo insisted on his presence during those moments of communion, even when Ryo knew he preferred to be alone.  
  
He remembered how being around the boy made him feel: young and dumb and in awe. Except when the boy was being stupid, which was always a pleasant reminder that they were almost the same age. The boy could do maths in his head faster than any calculator, yet he couldn't work out why a girl he was trying to take out for drinks would be upset with him just because he said she was buying. The boy could defeat hordes of youja on his own, but couldn't be bothered to learn how to sew a button back onto a shirt without mangling his fingers.  
  
That proud, lonely boy would not have lied for his own convenience. Would not have sacrificed any of his friends for anything.  
  
That boy would never have played with lives, even if he could.  
  
However, that boy was far away now.  
  
And maybe he was never coming back.  
  
When Touma woke up, he was still in a sort of daze. He only realized it was nighttime; he didn't notice the stars overhead.  
  
"I have to go," was the first thing he said.  
  
Ryo nodded. He gave up the keys to the car readily. In exchange, Touma handed him a cellular phone he had been keeping in his pocket.  
  
"Give me a day," he said to Ryo. "I'll call you when I'm ready, but I won't take longer than a day, I promise."  
  
It was Ryo's turn to say nothing. Touma repeated his instructions about the machine, issued a few warnings which frankly went in one ear and out the other. Ryo had heard just about enough about how risky this whole ordeal was and how important it was that he did exactly as he was told.  
  
He knew exactly what he was taking upon himself.  
  
As Touma was starting the car, he called, "Ryo."  
  
Ryo looked at him.  
  
"Thank you for everything. And... I'm sorry."  
  
Apologies still sounded weird coming from Touma, after all these years.  
  
Ryo smiled. "Just go."  
  
Touma stayed for a moment, staring at that smile as if he couldn't accept that it was meant for him.  
  
Then he drove off.  
  
  
  
  
  
In the end, Touma couldn't believe how easy it all went. Ryo was never one for doing things without question, and though weak with hunger and sleeplessness, Touma had been fully prepared for a fight.  
  
It was useless to think of how else things could have gone. Or what could have been going through Ryo's head, for him to have given in so easily. Touma knew he should be glad things went smoothly; there were a number of ways Ryo could have processed the information he had just been given, but in the end his gamble on his friend's compassionate nature paid off.  
  
It was the last time he and Ryo were ever to meet. It was more than enough that they did not part as enemies, though Touma knew he had left his friend with an unspeakable burden and shattered faith. That smile accused him of so many things.  
  
It did not matter.  
  
He felt numb inside. Cold. But maybe it was just because sleep was still leaving him. He was still half in a haze as he drove off, grateful that the long road back to Tokyo was at least well-lit by the cloudless evening sky.  
  
"Good as new, Seiji," he said softly to no one.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: somewhat risque scene ahead.

_He's always liked you. From the start._   
  
The words rang in his head. He wished they didn't. He wished he could think more clearly at this precise moment.    
  
That machine in there... he had to find a way to shut it down. If only he were sure there was a way to do it without killing all of them, or doing something equally stupid...   
  
If he were younger, there would have been no question; he would've smashed it with a sword. Or a rock. Or his bare hands.   
  
But then, if he were younger, he would have had his friends with and behind him. Touma would have been helping him destroy such machines, not building them. Seiji would not have been ill.   
  
None of this would have happened.   
  
Ryo's steps had dragged as he made his way back to the cave. When he finally got back to the entrance, he realized he couldn't go in there, not yet. He didn't want to face that  _thing_  inside, though he would have to, eventually.   
  
He looked up. Late at night the stars seemed to burn brighter than ever. They offered no solace at this time, however, no peace of mind or sage advice.   
  
He could think better if only he didn't feel more. He kept telling himself this. If he were only less emotional, he would be able to function. If only there was someone else around him at this moment to keep him calm...   
  
No. It was no use thinking of that. He didn't have anyone to count on, now. Touma was the one who had stranded him here.   
  
Although - that wasn't exactly true. He'd left Ryo a fully charged mobile phone. Ryo could call for help. He could call the police.   
  
Sitting on the ground beside the cave entrance, Ryo found himself reaching into his pocket for Touma's mobile. He flipped it open and stared at the lit screen absently.   
  
What Touma had left him was, in fact, a world of trust. Ryo had in his hand something that could bring Touma to account, finally, for everything that's ever happened and is going to happen.   
  
And Touma knew full well that Ryo wasn't going to use it.   
  
If Touma's judgment were left to the people who didn't know him, they were going to destroy him. They were going to call him a freak, a monster, something that should've been killed in the womb or strangled at the cradle. They had forgotten that he had fought for them once, staked his very life on their salvation - and even if they remembered, it wouldn't matter.   
  
That he could play with lives like this ultimately made him something to fear.   
  
And if Shuu knew... Ryo almost couldn't bear to think about it. But it was bound to happen, if the issue ever came to light: Shuu would know, and he would condemn Touma, too. No matter how much he loved Touma as a friend, no matter how thoroughly he would despise what had happened, it would take a very long time before he could forgive Touma for what he had done.   
  
To Shin. To Seiji.   
  
And to anyone else who may have been in his way.   
  
Ryo couldn't even call Shuu. The thought made him even more despondent. It had always been just the five of them, and now...   
  
I'm  _the one who's going to lose him, not you._   
  
Ryo dropped the phone without flipping it shut first. He didn't care at the moment if it was going to be damaged or run out of power. Useless, hateful thing.   
  
His now-empty hands balled into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms so hard his hands shook.   
  
He was here to fix things. He had come to help.   
  
But repeating this to himself just seemed to make things worse. Touma had said so: Touma had said he had expected Ryo to come when he called.   
  
He'd played into Touma's hands because he didn't know any better.   
  
Despite Ryo's best efforts, the demands of the "now" started slipping away from him. He could no longer think of how to destroy the machine, or how to get help, or how to keep things from falling apart; in his heart, he knew things had already fallen apart, had fallen apart a long time ago - and he was to blame.   
  
If he'd been smarter... if he'd been smarter since  _ages ago_ , none of this would have happened. If he were only more aware of his surroundings as a teenager, he would've known that what Touma was saying was true. He didn't have to suspect that Touma was manipulating him again, this time.   
  
Seiji liked him.   
  
Not just as a friend, not just as a sort of "leader" (as if their little gang had such a thing), and not just as a fellow soldier. Seiji liked him. All the enigmatic silences and loaded conversations that had somehow fallen between them while they were growing up were slowly and painfully making sense. All those times Seiji looked out for him, put his own life on the line  _first_  and without question.   
  
_All those books, all that stuff he's written - they were all letters, addressed to_ you.   
  
It took a long time to write, and it was a good story that everyone liked - about a young, dashing feudal lord and his four precocious friends. There were declarations of love and loyalty undying, strange for men to give out in this day and age but not, Seiji had noted, in those olden days, in that long-lost age of heroes that nobody remembered anymore.   
  
If Ryo had only looked more closely, like he should've, it was little more than a story about a boy: about a brave, stupid boy, and the friends who rallied around him. The boy who always charged ahead without thinking. And the other boy who had sworn to protect him no matter what the cost. This other boy later liked the intelligent friend who saved the brave, stupid boy's ass the most times, as well - but never forgot his oath.   
  
Seiji, proud Seiji, proper Seiji...   
  
How hard it must have been for him to keep writing. To confess to strangers, instead of the one person to whom he couldn't confess, for years and years.   
  
He had never written Ryo any letters. Or sent any postcards. Though he'd written letters - traditional, properly written ones - for everyone else... for Ryo, he'd only written books.   
  
But if Ryo had only known...   
  
How hard it must have been for Touma, too, watching Seiji all that time... ("Emotions that had been there from the start," Seiji had said. But  _whose_  emotions had he meant?)   
  
Frustration ate away at him. A familiar white-hot rage blazed behind his eyes. He was only barely aware that his hands had not uncurled from the tight fists they had turned into, and that they were striking the ground hard, too hard.   
  
Ryo brought his fists up to his eyes, in a vain effort to hold the burning back, but it was uncontrollable.   
  
This was his fault.   
  
All of it.   
  
  
  
  
  
Touma thought of a number of ways this could go down.   
  
Seiji could be asleep. It was, after all, close to midnight. He could be needing rest, after having overexerted himself. Touma knew  _he_  would certainly overexert his body, if he suddenly found it mobile again after months of disuse...   
  
Or Seiji could be awake. Awake and writing. Or passing time in the year-round warmth of his beloved greenhouse, waiting serenely for Ryo to come home.   
  
Or Seiji could be not here. He knew he should have called before coming back, one last call at his mobile before handing it over to Ryo - but he was not in any condition to hear Seiji's voice back then. He still wasn't sure he was in any condition now.   
  
Seiji could be at the hospital, staying with Shin and Shuu. Seiji could be in someone else's apartment room, carrying on a pleasant midnight conversation with a neighbor. He could be out having sex with strangers to celebrate regaining control of his libido. Or he could have gotten into some sort of accident and was lying in a ditch somewhere.   
  
Touma thought about the many things he wanted to say and do. And how to behave. He was still trying to convince himself at the front door to their apartment that it was best to act completely innocent. He was normally used to having a lot of thoughts in his head all at once, but this time they weighed on him like the last musings of someone about to get his head chopped off.   
  
He unlocked the door and mumbled  _"Tadaima."_  as he was stepping in.   
  
He felt rather than saw Seiji step up to him as he closed and locked the door again.   
  
He didn't turn around. He wasn't sure why. Wasn't he aching to see Seiji all throughout the trip home?   
  
_"Okaeri,"_  Seiji murmured, making Touma catch his breath.   
  
He felt Seiji's hand on his shoulder. Seiji's arms wrapping around him and the warmth of Seiji's body holding him close.   
  
The warmth was almost too much for him.   
  
"It worked," he said in a strangled voice, "It  _worked._ "   
  
"It did," Seiji answered.   
  
There was no need to explain anything then. Touma turned around and trapped Seiji in the hardest embrace he could muster. Together they stood behind the locked door, arms around each other, unsteady on their legs with the force of each other's presence.   
  
They said nothing for a long, long time.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ryo wasn't able to sleep.   
  
When he couldn't stop them, Touma's voice saying hurtful things rang in his head. So Ryo tried to think of something else, something useful -   
  
Like how to destroy this cruel machine, this testament to his friend's brilliance.   
  
Ryo stood before the wires and panels, shoulders hunched and back to the wall. To anyone watching him at the moment, his eyes seemed to reflect the light from the glowing spheres emptily, making him look resigned to some unknown fate.   
  
But behind those eyes his mind worked tirelessly.   
  
He turned his distant gaze around the room, and tried to focus on something he could use.   
  
Touma had apparently been camping out here for a while. There was a sleeping bag in a state of disarray. Various provisions and supplies, including tools, canned food and a well-used first aid kit, were dumped into a crate near the bag.   
  
The preparations had been disorganized and hurried, but complete. It made Ryo shake his head.  _Very psycho killer, my friend._   
  
The machine itself was quite a piece of work. It was put together hurriedly, but it was self-powered, with a very intricate design. At one time Ryo would decide that  _this_  cable was connected to whatever main power source was at the machine's core... and later he would find that that cable seemed to serve another purpose, and there were other wires that seemed just as essential.   
  
Were there any blueprints, clues on how to turn the machine off? Ryo had rummaged through everything, and he hadn't found a single piece of documentation. If Touma ever made notes while building the machine, he left no trace of them. He must have kept all the information locked safely away in his head.   
  
But Ryo knew that for the celebrated "human calculator", this was not very difficult. He might have needed to keep notes for his medical research only because his brain was already busy putting this secret plan together... but if he hadn't had a secret plan in the first place, he might never have needed notes at all.   
  
There wasn't even any paper, nothing to write on, or to burn to make a smoke signal (unless he could find some way to blow up the machine... either way, it would not be wise to draw attention). In fact there was no other way to contact the outside world except through the mobile phone Touma had left him. And there were no clues on the phone, not a single one.   
  
It was tiring to say the least, playing detective on little rest and with such limited resources, but Ryo had one day to find a way to fix things. One whole day to figure out a way to do what was right, as he'd promised Seiji.   
  
And he was damned if he wasn't going to keep his promises.   
  
  
  
  
Seiji wasn't able to sleep. First light found him sitting in the living room, his notebook lying closed on his lap. In his right hand he lightly held a pen, but that hand and that pen stayed motionless.   
  
Touma was home. And Ryo was gone. And Touma hadn't even asked about Ryo before going to bed, leading Seiji to realize that he  _knew_  where Ryo was, because it wasn't like Touma to forget to ask, or not to give a damn.   
  
And Seiji wasn't all that eager to go back to sleep. He was sick of lying down. He could have written more, his latest novel was miles away from being finished, but there was nothing left to write.   
  
Touma wasn't able to sleep, either. He'd said he was tired, but he couldn't seem to stay in bed. They talked all night instead, with Touma asking after recent events, and avoiding the few questions that Seiji threw in his direction.   
  
Something was deeply troubling him. Seiji was able to sense that much. He could accept it if Touma didn't want to sleep with him just yet, because Touma said he was still in a delicate state after his long illness, and there was no telling what overexertion would do to him, even if his body was functioning normally on all counts.   
  
Still, something felt very wrong.   
  
Touma approached him from behind the couch and planted a light kiss in his hair. Having eaten, showered, and lounged in familiar surroundings, Touma emanated relaxation. It was almost like he was back to his old self, back when Seiji's health had not taken a turn for the worse, back when they weren't arguing as often.   
  
It almost hurt Seiji to remember. And it felt even more wrong, reconciling those memories with what was happening now.   
  
Touma shouldn't be this calm. He shouldn't be this desperate to be calm.   
  
"Shuu's probably still at the hospital," Touma whispered. "Won't he be surprised if we go and visit them first thing tomorrow."   
  
Seiji said nothing. Touma walked round the couch and sat beside him, worry at this lack of response clear on his face.   
  
"But we don't have to go to see them," he eagerly assured. "We'll go wherever you want."    
  
Even with Touma sitting here, so close by, it felt like there was an impenetrable veil between them - an invisible veil that kept Touma from telling him everything. And from Seiji asking.   
  
"Don't you want to see your parents? We can get there in no time by bullet train. We can stay there all day if you want, I just have to - "   
  
"No." Seiji said softly through that veil. "Don't go anywhere. Don't leave again."   
  
It got through. The barrier between them was still there, but thinner now. Touma reached for his hand, held it tightly.   
  
"I won't."   
  
  
  
  
Morning came, and with it Ryo's decision.   
  
He wasn't going to bloody well do what Touma said.   
  
Touma had said he wanted the blue sphere deactivated. All Ryo had to do was push the blue button and it would happen.   
  
But he wasn't going to push that button. It wasn't the only button in the world, after all, was it?   
  
Maybe it was his anguished brain wreaking havoc on his decision-making skills, but he found himself dead sure. More sure than he had ever been sure of anything in a while.   
  
In fact, it was the only option that made any sense.   
  
A sort of peace came upon him, the most welcome feeling in the world right now. He sat on the sleeping bag facing the machine, a new determination filling his eyes with light.   
  
He would wait for Touma's call. Whether or not Touma called, he would wait 24 hours - exactly one whole day, as he had been asked. The clock on the mobile phone Touma had left him read that he still had half a day to go.   
  
He only wished he could spend the little time he had left writing goodbye notes to everyone.   
  
  
  
  
As the day drew on, Touma became more and more restless.   
  
It was their last day together, and nothing was happening. The first thing Seiji did after breakfast was to call up his family in Sendai and spend some good hours racking up long-distance bills.   
  
(If members of the Date family ever got emotional, they never got "emotional" in the ordinary sense. It was a given. Their conversations consisted mainly of meaningful pauses and curt, well-formed sentences, with only subtle changes to Seiji's facial expression - a hint of a smile, a flash of pain - to indicate any changes in feeling. His brow was knitted all throughout his conversation with his grandfather, with whom he seemed to exhaust all the politeness in his arsenal.   
  
(The closest it came to "normal" was when Seiji heard from his youngest sister, the spitfire Satsuki, who never watered herself down or held anything back. Touma could hear her crying and cursing her "Baka-Oniisan" out loudly, though she wasn't on speakerphone. Seiji's voice shook briefly as he assured her that he had not meant to worry her, or any of them. He had been ill. Things had been difficult for him, too, and he was grateful for his family's understanding, especially his little sister's.   
  
(He never said when he was coming home. He never fully explained what had happened, and what was happening. "Please give my regards to everyone," he had simply said. And after he put down the phone he sat staring at it for a long time, as if wondering if he should pick it up again.   
  
(He eventually did, but it was to contact Touma's parents, with whom he had what the baffled Touma could only identify as a "weird rapport." They'd both already taken him in as "like a brother to my son," after all, and they were both happy to hear from him after so long, though their busy schedules would not allow for the kind of pleasantries he was used to dispensing.)   
  
After making his phone calls, Seiji refused an invitation from Touma to go out and see Shin and Shuu at the hospital, or to visit the cafe downstairs they used to enjoy hanging out in, or just to go out and do something,  _anything_ .   
  
Seiji said he wanted to stay in and take care of his bonsai.   
  
Nothing was happening.   
  
In his overactive brain, Touma started to put together that Seiji was stalling. He seemed placid enough, but Touma wondered if it was because he was waiting for something - for when Ryo came home, perhaps, or for Touma to do something drastic. He meant for this to happen, Touma was sure - he fully intended to drive Touma crazy with this unusual idleness.   
  
But Touma's hands were tied. It was their last day together, and he couldn't even say it aloud.   
  
_If Seiji only_  knew.   
  
He wished he'd thought this through. He hadn't made provisions for Seiji not itching to leave the house, in spite of being stuck in it for months. He hadn't counted on not being able to debate with Seiji over the importance of Going Out and Enjoying Life, because what he wanted to do was make Seiji feel like he had all the time in the world to do just that.   
  
By all rights, Seiji  _did_  have all the time in the world now.   
  
Touma and Shin did not.   
  
A day. He'd only asked Ryo for a day. But "a day" was 24 hours stolen from someone else. Every second made Shin's body weaker, made him less able to provide the energy that Seiji was using to stay on his feet.   
  
If he got too weak, only one thing would happen: Ryo would not need to press the blue button.   
  
Shin's body would give up, and he would transfer all his energy to Seiji and die.   
  
And Touma couldn't let that happen.   
  
As a medical doctor, he'd projected that Shin would take several days before he actually grew too weak for that... but he should make allowances for errors in calculation. He had been slipping up too much already. Also, as Shin's  _friend_ , he didn't want Shin to languish. He should restore Shin to full health, the way he did with Shuu, as soon as he could.   
  
All he truly knew was that he wanted to spend his last day on Earth with the person he loved the most. But if the universe was going to deny him that...   
  
Well, he probably deserved it.   
  
The thought made him feel numb, dampened his resentment. That's right - he deserved it. He'd fucked up. One good day with Seiji was too much for him to ask for.   
  
In a way, it made it easier for him to do what he had to do next.   
  
The afternoon came more quickly than he could've liked. It was almost time. He picked up the cordless extension of their landline and moved to the balcony, shut the door behind him so that Seiji, who was reading indoors, wouldn't hear.   
  
  
  
  
The mobile phone rang. Ryo picked it up and flipped it open in automatic motions.   
  
Neither of them greeted first.   
  
After a considerable silence, Touma chuckled,  _"I guess I don't get any points for being early, for once."_   
  
Ryo didn't reply. He remained sitting where he was, one hand holding a pen, the other holding the phone up to his ear.    
  
He heard Touma sigh on the other end of the line. There was some wind muffling Touma's voice; he must be in a high place.  _"Ryo,_  he said with a familiar gentleness,  _"once again, I place all my bets on you."_   
  
Touma might as well have been talking to an answering machine. Still no answer.   
  
_"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I want you to understand that. It doesn't have to be now, but I hope you do. And I hope that you'll forgive me then._

"You know how... you see evil as a kid, you see people hurting others to get what they want... and then you tell yourself you'll never be like that. You'll never, ever put your own desires before other people. And you'll stop others from becoming evil, while you live and breathe. Nothing will ever be dear enough to you to make you forget what's important and what's right."  
  
His voice was steady and he was sounding like an old man again. He must've gotten some rest, Ryo told himself... which was good.  
  
 _"But you grow up and... things aren't simple. 'What's important' and 'what's right' changes over time. And they stop being clear and precise. You have to figure things out for yourself, and when you do that, you have to make mistakes."_  A pause.  _"I know you think you could've stopped me... talked me out of it, helped me see things another way. I know that's what friends do, or believe they're supposed to do. But I couldn't have talked to you, Ryo. Or to anyone. Not about this."_  
  
Not me, Ryo thought, because of what Seiji felt  _about_  me. If you're trying to make me feel less guilty, Touma, it's not working.  
  
 _"That's why I don't blame you if you hate me."_  
  
I don't.  
  
 _"If I were you, I'd forget we were ever friends."_  
  
Never. I would never.  
  
 _"What I'm asking you to do right now... is unforgivable. But you can't NOT do it."_  A sad smile, all the way down the wire.  _"Because you have to stop other people from becoming evil. While you live and breathe."_  
  
It was different being told this by someone who'd known him since he was a child. If it had been from anyone else, it would have sounded like a noble task or birthright. But from someone like Touma, it sounded like a flaw - a defect that was present in them both, after having shared the same supernatural womb.  
  
 _"It's useless to deny it, Ryo, or to wish things had gone differently. I can't live with having done all this. And because I've done it once, I can do it again. It has to end."_  
  
"You're wrong."  
  
It was the most honest that Touma had ever been with him, since the time he called together all his friends to explain Seiji's illness. Ryo had not wanted to interrupt. But sometimes his body did things that he didn't approve of, and then all that was left was to go with the flow.  
  
"You wouldn't do it again. Look... I'm still trying to get my mind around you doing it in the first place!"  
  
Maybe not the best choice of words. Ryo could already  _feel_  the soul-crushing retort forming on Touma's lips.  
  
"You're not evil," he said with finality. "You've said so yourself: this isn't the sort of thing you'd usually turn to. Even if you could do this again - you'd stop. Without anybody having to stop you."  
  
 _"That sounds like something Shin would say,"_  Touma acidly remarked.  _"You remember what I've done to him, don't you?"_  
  
He didn't have to bring that up, but Ryo would be falling into Touma's trap again if he let it get to him. "Touma... everyone makes mistakes."  
  
Touma was silent. Perhaps formulating another stinging response. Perhaps caught by surprise by the sudden kindness, and was still busy processing. Ryo decided to move on to something else, regardless.  
  
"Touma, tell me... what have you been dreaming about?"  
  
Still silence. But Ryo heard Touma starting to speak, wanting to answer this.  
  
 _"I... I've been having these dreams, but I never paid any attention to them. I thought... it was just my subconscious taking me back to Seiji's books."_  
  
There it was. So it wasn't just Seiji and Ryo and Shuu. The dream was something they all experienced. Was it because of the machine...?  
  
But if it was, Touma gave no sign of knowing about it. It may have been an unforeseen side effect of his meddling with youja energies. It may also have been the remnants of their virtues, or their Trooper instincts, trying to tell them something.  
  
Ryo wondered what Shin was dreaming about at that moment.  
  
 _"Last night... I - never mind. It's not important. Dreams are just dreams, Ryo, and we're too old to - "_  
  
He cut himself off abruptly. Touma had put his hand on the receiver - Ryo could tell because all the noise, even the wind in the background, had suddenly become muffled.   
  
When Touma came back again, he spoke in a hurried whisper:  _"I have to go. You have to listen carefully."_  
  
He proceeded to rattle off another set of directions to Ryo - mostly reminders on what he was supposed to do with the button. The damned blue button. At precisely 7:30 PM, Ryo was to press that button. It was still 5:30 PM, so Touma had a good two hours to get himself out of Tokyo - as far away from Seiji as he could get.  
  
 _"I won't have a phone with me, so I'll have to rely on you to keep the time. I don't want Seiji to have to see it happen. I've made arrangements for all my assets to be transferred to you. Ryo, take care of him."_ His voice might have broken here, if he hadn't caught it in time. He took a deep breath and continued,  _"I've also arranged for my body to be found within a set timeframe. You don't need to know the details. Don't try looking for me because you won't find me._

"And when you come back to him, tell him... tell him I've gone. That's all. And tell him," Touma hesitated.  _"Tell him I'd give anything so that he can be happy."_  
  
Ryo closed his eyes.  _"I'd give anything"_  were words that cut into his very soul, but he was not sure why, and could not elaborate.  
  
Touma ended the call without waiting for Ryo to reply.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sorry," he announced as he stepped into the room. "Just needed some fresh air."  
  
Seiji frowned as he met Touma's gaze.  
  
"You could've made that call in here," he pointed out. "It's getting cold. Might rain tonight."  
  
"Yeah." Touma strode past him. "Don't worry, I'll bring an umbrella."  
  
Touma put the cordless phone back in its cradle, while Seiji stood dumbfounded. How casually Touma had said that, after having been gone for ages and back home for barely a day. And how casually he was going around the house to pick up things he would normally bring on a grocery trip, sans the car keys - his wallet, his ID cards (where was his cell phone?).  
  
"You're going out?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"Yeah." Touma sat on the couch to put on fresh socks, going-out socks. "Just... stepping out for a bit. Something I have to take care of."  
  
Seiji was silent. Touma knew what such silences meant, but he was determined not to mind it. He had to keep things light; he wasn't going to leave Seiji fuming.  
  
"I'll bring back a few of those green tea cakes you liked," he continued. It was a struggle to pretend to be his obnoxious, insensitive younger self, but in his mind, it was for the best. "The ones from downtown. Don't you miss those? What are they called again...?"  
  
He felt hands grip his shoulders - strong, long-fingered hands, an artist's hands. Those hands gently pulled him upright, forcing him to square his shoulders and tilt his head back.  
  
"Hey, what - "  
  
The rest of it got drowned out by Seiji's lips sealing his own shut.  
  
That kiss tore off all of Touma's pretenses. Touma felt himself melting into it, sitting helpless while all his defences melted away.  
  
When they pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily, and Touma caught himself arching up, seeking the warmth of those lips again. to So long. It had been so long.  
  
"This 'something' you have to take care of," Seiji murmured, running a fingertip along Touma's jawline. "it can wait a while, right?"  
  
  
  
  
There was nothing at all in Touma's psycho killer cave to write letters with, so Ryo had to content himself with making them all up in his mind.  
  
 _Dad,_  one letter began,  _I know I haven't been the best kid. I know you had big dreams for me. But you only ever told me to "follow your heart" and for that, I am grateful._  
  
He'd included a mental postcard there - a photograph he'd taken of a male wild antelope grooming a small buck. His father had not attended the exhibit where that one was shown. Ryo had always meant to send that specific photo to him. He would've gotten a kick out of that.  
  
And while these thoughts occupied him, Ryo's gaze remained fixed on the big button under the red sphere.  
  
There was only one red sphere. It could only belong to one person. Ryo even imagined that it resonated with him, flickered as his own resolve wavered.  
  
He wished again that he could have been more eloquent. Like Seiji. Sure there was nothing to write with, but it must have been comforting to at least have the words down right in one's own head...  
  
 _Shin and Shuu,_  another letter said,  _I'm lucky to have met you. All of you._  He wanted to say he was sorry for having troubled them - and that he was sorry to have troubled Shin more. But the fact was whatever hurt Shin, was likely to have hurt Shuu more. He knew this as well.  
  
To his surprise, the most eloquent he could become was in his imaginary letter to Nasuti. It started with an apology, then drew on to how he knew that she could have helped them all through the problems they were facing... but he didn't approach her. He had chosen not to trouble her. She was happy, he felt, and that meant she had the right to be kept out of their screwups. She had always been their "big sister," but there was no way she could have helped, not with this.  
  
(Even as he "wrote" this, he imagined her getting angry - quietly, in her oddly mature way - and telling him he was being a fool. None of them should've attempted taking this on alone. She would still have been their friend even if she couldn't have done anything, and keeping her out of the loop was not fair.  
  
(Then again, her stating this truth would mean nothing; nothing about that entire situation was fair.)  
  
And then,  _Touma,_  the new letter began...  
  
But there was nothing. Nothing he wanted to say. Nothing about how he'd always looked up to Touma, as a friend and as a fellow soldier, for all those years. Nothing about how he wished he and Seiji could continue to be happy together. And how he wanted to tell Touma that none of this was his fault, how he didn't deserve the blame for any of it.  
  
He didn't have anything to say to Touma. Not in a letter. Everything he had to say to Touma, he had to say to his face. Which was stupid, because they would never see each other again... but it still felt for some reason like it would be easier for Touma to misunderstand him if they weren't facing each other.  
  
And then, Seiji.  
  
Ryo almost broke down at that point. There was so much to say. Most of it started with  _"Sorry."_  Sorry for not having an idea, sorry for not being able to understand, and sorry for meddling and making things worse.  
  
 _"If I'd known, I could've told you I wasn't worth it."_  
  
It was almost the appointed time. Ryo had to tell himself to get it all together. There was no time left to try and change the course of events, or to run away from this responsibility he had voluntarily taken on.  
  
All that was left was to do the right thing.  
  
  
  
  
  
So long. Touma had almost forgotten. Seiji's touch, Seiji's smell, the taste of sweat on Seiji's skin, washed over him like light, blinding his thoughts to anything else.  
  
Seiji was here, Seiji was  _well_ , and Seiji was smiling at him. There was no way he could tell himself this wasn't everything he'd been working for, for the past five years.  
  
But it wasn't as if Touma had been hoping for this to happen. In fact, he was hoping it would not. There were a couple of very good reasons:  
  
One: Seiji was making love to Touma with Shin's energy. Touma had been afraid, deathly afraid, that if he kissed Seiji he would taste Shin there... but as soon as Seiji's lips touched his that first time, he hadn't even  _thought_  of Shin - which, he supposed, was a good sign.  
  
It took effort for him to forget about Shin, especially at the start, when he  _looked for Shin_  in every sigh, every word whispered into his ear. With every flicker of his tongue, he looked for a different taste, the taste of someone he didn't know this intimately.  
  
(Why he had to be such a pervert, he did not know.)  
  
But the apprehensions vanished after a while. Touma soon forgot why he had it in the first place. Of course Shin wouldn't be there, or anywhere; the one who used the energy to move would be the only one present; he would be the only tactile thing.  
  
Two: The last person to touch him before this was Ryo - another thing he had not intended to happen. But as in this, he wasn't able to put a stop to it when it happened. He hadn't known that he had become so weak against touch, until it was forced upon him. He was never getting another massage,  _ever._  
  
...And now when Seiji's fingers wander to that spot on his lower back, the  _spot_  Seiji knew was unusually sensitive, turning him on every. Damn. Time, he thought of Ryo's hands coming across that area of his skin completely by accident.  
  
Ryo's hands... had not been rough. In fact, they had been surprisingly gentle, for someone who'd lived most of his professional life among wild creatures. It was just as Seiji's hands had been surprisingly gentle that first time, for someone who'd lived most of his young life handling heavy killing implements. Thus Ryo's hands couldn't help but be memorable; like Seiji's, they had innocently burned their imprint into Touma's skin.  
  
But sometimes Touma did not like it gentle, and only Seiji knew when those times were. So the imprint that Ryo had left could be reluctantly set aside for this moment. A single occasion was no cause for an obsession, after all.  
  
Three: It was almost 7 PM. Having become keenly aware of time and how little of it was available at any given moment, Touma had acquired the habit of keeping score of the hour, at the back of his head. In a few minutes it would be too late to go anywhere. It would be overly indulgent to stay any longer.  
  
But it felt so good.  
  
Seiji was taking his sweet time. It wasn't a teasing pace, Touma knew what "teasing" was on Seiji's terms... but he was definitely making it last. He pulled his hand back when Touma was about to come, and pushed away, demanded to wait, when  _he_  was about to come.  
  
Touma couldn't help but be responsive. God knew he was surprised to learn he was  _this_  receptive at the start... and God knew he was surprised to find that he still was, after all this time. He dared to think of where Seiji got the strength to hold back, after being virtually immobile for so long - and then Seiji's lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and he stopped thinking altogether.  
  
Touma knew he had no time. He knew he didn't deserve this.  
  
But he wanted this so much.  
  
  
  
  
  
The cell phone alarm beeped. It was 7:30 PM.  
  
Ryo threw his entire weight down upon the red button. He emitted a grunt, and the machine emitted...  
  
Nothing.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He tried pushing the button again. And again. Still, nothing.  
  
Ryo let out an angry yell. He bashed his fists against the panels of the machine that were within reach. When that did nothing at all, he turned his rage onto the nearest available thing, which was the mobile phone that was still beeping, after giving that fateful alert.  
  
Ryo threw the phone against the wall, shattering it. The beeping stopped.  
  
But it was useless.  
  
Touma had locked the machine. He had made it so Ryo would have no choice but to press the blue button, the one that would end his life, and transfer all of his energy to Seiji.  
  
 _You knew. You knew I was going to try this._  
  
But it was even more useless to dwell. Ryo knew Touma was smart enough for this, and he didn't have time. He wasn't about to go randomly pressing all the other buttons to see if they were all locked; the red button was the only real option.  
  
So he had to think.  
  
He had to think hard.  
  
Images started to flash in his mind. He was a photographer, after all, and he couldn't help it. He had to look for visual cues - anything from his memory that could help him resolve this.  
  
Memories of Shin standing under an umbrella in the rain, Touma lying on his couch unconscious, the first time he saw Seiji again after five long years, flickered past in lightspeed. Ryo was wired to resort to razor-sharp hindsight.  
  
He needed NOT to panic, he needed to think, but a whole film reel of images was going through his head - quite like how it would be, he supposed, for a person about to die, who sees his entire life flash before his eyes.  
  
Then, he saw it: a single scene. One that somehow stuck into his photographer's mind:  
  
Touma with his back to Ryo, fiddling with a specific panel on his machine. His fingers followed a sequence...  
  
Wait. That was too fast. Ryo replayed the scene in his head. He tried to set a videographers controls to it - slow. Pause. Rewind. Fast forward.  
  
Slow.  
  
Yes. There it was.   
  
Ryo had been there, he had witnessed Touma entering a certain code into a certain keypad on a certain panel on his dire machine... Ryo had just not paid attention while it was happening. Now that he could look back - as a photographer looks back, with crystal clarity, at priceless photographs he had NOT been able to take - the scene held no more secrets for him.  
  
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.  
  
His fingers followed the sequence that he saw. There was no room for error. He knew what he had seen - his eyes had preserved it.  
  
There was a loud chime.  
  
And Ryo knew he had entered the right combination.  
  
It was already several minutes past 7:30 PM. Touma must have been trying to phone him by now. But since the thing was smashed to bits, it was probably not worth it to feel bad about missing a call.  
  
There was no time.  
  
Ryo positioned himself before the red button again. And, eyes shut, breath held, he pushed down on the button with the palm of his right hand. Finally, the button yielded.  
  
Ryo let out a sigh of relief.  
  
It took a while before he felt it: the numbness on his right arm. Slowly the numbness became a paralysis, and he couldn't move his arm any longer.  
  
His legs started to give in, too. He lowered himself to the floor and sat up against the machine, too weak to head to somewhere more comfortable. In an hour, perhaps less, he wouldn't be able to move his entire body. Shuu had told him it felt something like this; he wondered if the feeling had been the same for Shin, if Shin had panicked. He hoped not.  
  
In the meantime, the red sphere started to flicker and lose its light. And the light blue sphere started to regain light. Ryo had to smile upon seeing that.  
  
He wasn't scared. Not one bit.


	16. Chapter 16

He was expecting his whole life to flash before his eyes. After all, he knew what being close to death felt like. He had been there before, a couple of times. It had been the same every time, it had started to become predictable.

But all Ryo saw this time was darkness.

He wasn't sure he had opened his eyes again in the first place. It felt strange. He felt like he was dreaming, and that sensations like touch, smell, taste had become vague memories... but he  _knew_  he was awake. And he knew he should be feeling something else besides "awake," but there were no words for it.

Though his sense of touch was diminished, he realized he was wearing armor - armor that he felt he had worn for the longest time. But it wasn't any armor that he knew. It wasn't the red fire armor, or even the Inferno armor, both of which had vanished a long time ago.

This was different. This was traditional armor, which one only read about in books and saw as costumes in period dramas on TV. Ryo vaguely wondered what he was doing with it, and why it felt so comfortable, like a second skin.

Why was this scene familiar? Had he read it somewhere? Maybe in something that Seiji wrote... 

...Seiji. The thought of his friend's name reminded him of something. Something important.

It was why he had to take a step forward.

Even in absolute darkness Ryo's feet followed a path, like being carried along in a current. And soon, a bright shadow appeared in front of him, walking in the opposite direction.

Ryo stopped and waited for the shadow to approach. It was another person, around the same height as himself, also in traditional armor, though a different style. He was walking slowly, very slowly, but his back was straight and his bearing noble.

Ryo knew who he was even before he could see his face.

"Shin," he whispered, and far away, the person approaching looked at him and smiled.

He reached out a hand. Shin took that hand and his grip was strong and alive.

"You sure took your time," Shin greeted, as dryly as ever. His soft voice sounded nonetheless like it echoed across invisible walls.

But there was worry on his face. His smile wasn't a glad one. And when he was face to face with Ryo finally, the smile vanished.

"It felt like I've been keeping a door open for someone else," Shin said. "I just didn't expect it would be you."

There was no door anywhere, not that Ryo could see. But there was no reason to doubt what Shin was saying.

"This isn't yours. Or mine." Shin held his hand more tightly. "Let's go back together."

Ryo shook his head. "I can't." He smiled bitterly. "None of this would've happened if it wasn't for me."

Shin looked him in the eye as if he knew exactly what Ryo was talking about. He released Ryo's hand and sighed.

"That's not true," he said in a kind voice. "But even if you believed that, it won't stop you, will it?"

Shin looked over his shoulder at something or someone. Ryo followed his gaze, but there was nothing there - only absolute darkness.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said. "Before you go. Something you have to know."

"What is it?"

"Touma," he began. "The machine he built... wasn't just for us. He knew more than one way to draw life from human bodies. Not just ours."

There was no room or time to ask how Shin knew this. Shin had come from a place that Ryo couldn't see, and had been waiting a long time - in that place, he may have learned some things, or figured them out.

"Touma could've sacrificed the world to save Seiji, but he didn't. He chose instead to sacrifice himself." Shin stepped up and laid a hand on Ryo's shoulder. "Knowing this made it easier for me. Maybe it could make it easier for you, too. He only did what he had to do."

Ryo didn't understand what Shin was saying. But he thought that if he could get to the place Shin came from, he finally could. He didn't have to understand it to believe it, however. He nodded in acknowledgement, and seeing that was all that Shin needed.

Shin let go and walked ahead, and was soon swallowed up by the darkness.

 

 

Seiji was just falling asleep when he thought he heard a sound.

He wasn't sure what kind of sound it was, or where he heard it from. He thought at first it was coming from somewhere inside the room. But there was no one here besides Touma and himself.

Touma was fast asleep in his arms. Seiji had hoped he could sleep as well. He had not known how much he wanted this until only an hour ago, when it felt like Touma was leaving again, and it somehow felt like he was leaving for good...

Then Seiji wasn't able to help himself. The need overpowered him. It would not have overpowered him at any other time. He had sought to stay disciplined, leveled, even during the worst moments of his illness.

He gave in because he knew it would lead to this.

Now he lay in bed with the person he loved. The last dark months of pain and resentment, of scrapping for every bit of happiness they could find to tide them over while they waited for the inevitable, were washed clean away within the last hour. Touma had tried to leave, to attend to this mysterious all-important errand that was dragging him away - but sleep assaulted his tired mind and body, and facing defeat he surrendered with an anxious sigh, buried himself in the warmth of Seiji's bare skin.

This was theirs. No matter what would happen tomorrow, or whenever things were due to change again, they had this moment.

And yet...

That sound. What was it? Perhaps it was not so much a sound as a feeling. It nagged at him, constant, relentless, erasing every trace of drowsiness from his mind.

Someone was calling for help.

He tried to be careful as he disentangled himself from Touma, though he knew it was useless - Touma often slept like the dead, especially when exhausted, and not even the  _youjakai_  falling down around his ears would wake him. He had often envied Touma this natural method of recharging.

Seiji brushed the backs of his fingers lightly across Touma's cheek. The sight of that sleeping face always put a sort of calm over Seiji's heart; at no other time would Touma seem as defenseless and as young.

With difficulty Seiji drew away from his lover, covered up his own naked body with a comfortable  _jinbei_ , then made his way out of the room silently. It was as if something else was moving his body again: another kind of overwhelming desire.

He stood in front of the glass door to the balcony. From there he could see clearly that it was raining. And yet, his hand moved toward the knob, and turned it, and his feet took him outside.

He was not dressed for rain at all. The cold sank into him even before he got wet. But not even the cold made him hesitate. He stepped into the downpour in a slow but steady pace.

The shivering started. The cold was making it so much harder to think, and the noise - if that was what it was - was getting louder. At least out here, in this small space between the greenhouse and the telescope and the merciless sky, the noise seemed loudest. He listened more closely, and it began to resemble an infinite number of voices whispering.

But every ounce of reason told him this wasn't right; nothing could possibly be calling for help out here. And if Touma were awake to see this, he would be panicking right now -  _Seiji, are you insane?! Come inside!_  The cold couldn't kill him, but that didn't mean it wouldn't make him sick. He was in his favorite housewear, besides, and this was no way to treat it.

So Seiji withdrew. He closed his eyes and took himself away from the cold, the confusion, the painful ache to go back inside, to crawl back into bed and hold Touma close again - and tried to isolate the sound.

His grandfather had taught him... take a few deep breaths, steady yourself. Find a place behind the agony and white noise. What he sought lay in that silent place where everything fell away, where nothing mattered but the answer -

 _Ryo._

That was it. The right name. The right person. A smile of relief touched Seiji's lips.

 _Ryo._

He opened his eyes, but he saw nothing. He heard nothing; the voices were still. The cold was gone, and the rain was gone, and all there was, was a familiar darkness.

He vaguely felt himself losing balance and falling - slowly, too slowly. It took forever to fall, and he had to hurry.

 

 

  
As soon as Shin vanished, something opened up far ahead of Ryo.

A portal. Light streamed from within, and Ryo thought he could see things moving within it, but were too fast and too far away to be clearly seen.

This must have been the "door" Shin was talking about...

But when Ryo looked over his shoulder, Shin wasn't there. There was no evidence that he had been there in the first place.

Ryo felt a pang of sadness at not having been able to say goodbye.

He looked back at the portal. Somehow he knew that if he went through this, there would be no returning.

He squared his shoulders, and walked on.

 

 

  
Then he thought he could hear voices.

Whispers, at first, too soft to perceive as more than a light buzzing. But then, words started to form. Ryo thought he could understand some of them. And that some of them were his name.

He wasn't sure he recognized them, but some of them sounded familiar - a friend from school. A beloved neighbor. A teacher he'd always admired. Long-lost voices, from a long-lost time.

And over all of them, a woman's voice: warm and comforting. Like a memory that never quite left him, but had long ago settled at the back of his mind.

How could he have forgotten? She was the most familiar thing to him now. He didn't know yet who this woman could be, or how she knew his name, or what she was saying to him, but if there was any reason, any  _one_  reason, to go through that door, it was her presence on the other side.

Ryo was close enough to step through the door, finally. He reached out, into the golden light, for the sound of her voice...

To his surprise, the last thought in his head, like a final stab of regret, was  _Touma._

And then he was pulled back.

In that place where there was no sensation, no sense of time, he barely felt the arms that had wrapped around his torso, the weight that pulled him away from the door. It was too soon, too slowly, that the whispers faded, and the door reverted to a mere portal of light.

He had been so close. And even now it lay just within reach. He was about to take another step closer to it.

But a voice, gentler and louder than any other, spoke close to his ear: "Still jumping into things without looking ahead, I see."

Ryo came to his senses with a start.

Seiji.

Emotion rushed into Ryo's chest, flooding it with warmth. This couldn't be death, he told himself.

 _"Seiji!!"_  He grabbed his friend's shoulders.

"Didn't think I was going to leave you alone, did you?" Seiji rapped the knuckles of one hand lightly on the front of the helmet Ryo wore.

In this armor, Seiji looked as if he was in perfect health - as Ryo would've wanted to see him, for the first time in years. Not bedridden, or wasting away, or silently bearing up with the pain.

It was as if he had never become ill. Or, Ryo noted, in love.

"Seiji," he breathed, "what are you doing here?"

"Just making sure you keep your promises."

Seiji was grinning brightly. Of all the miracles that had occurred recently, this was probably the only one that felt right to Ryo. Seiji was here for him. Seiji was in top form, and nothing could go wrong.

Seiji was the knight in shining armor again, good as new.

"How did you find me?" Ryo asked, but it was a pointless question. How did either of them get there? It didn't seem to be the sort of place anyone would go to on purpose.

Seiji's brow knitted. "I don't really know," he admitted. "I just had this... feeling... that you needed help. And I followed that feeling here." He looked at the portal Ryo was about to walk into - it was still there, still dangerously close. "I've been here before."

Ryo followed his gaze, and realized that the voices that had been calling him had faded away. If he listened loudly enough, he could still hear whispers... but he was no longer sure that they were for him.

The woman's voice was gone. Maybe if he came closer he could hear her again, but at that distance he couldn't hear her at all.

"This is my door," was Seiji's explanation. "I'm ready."

Ryo gripped his friend's arm.

"You can't," he declared. "You can't go. Not now. We... we worked so hard."

Ryo struggled to find the right words. Why was it that even in this dreamlike place, he couldn't get his head on straight when things needed saying?

"All of us. Especially Touma." So you can't leave him, he wanted to say. You're going to have a good life with him, and then die at a ripe old age. Not now. Not this way.

Seiji waited until he let go. Then he knelt on one knee before Ryo and bowed his head.

... As if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if he had not playfully rapped his knuckles on Ryo's forehead just a moment ago.

"I promised long ago," Seiji said, "that I would lay down my life for you. It was a promise I made to myself, and to whatever gods would hear. Now I am thankful to those gods that I can do this."

In another time and place, this would not be happening. Ryo would be pulling Seiji to his feet and telling him he was being ridiculous.

But something kept Ryo from interrupting; he figured it was simply the way Seiji made it look and sound like it was something he was born to do. That this was how this old, old story ended.

"I also swore," Seiji continued, "that I would protect you, though we be separated by distance and time. That I would be with you always. And that whatever stupid shit you'll get yourself into, like everyone who's ever cared for you, I'll be around to keep you safe."

Since dragging Seiji to his feet so they could talk was out of the question, Ryo went down on both knees. Facing Seiji, he pulled his friend into a tight embrace.

The armor they wore did not get in the way. The hard leather and iron yielded as if they did not exist.

"I loved you," Seiji whispered. "But I didn't know what to do with that love except let it get to me. Touma misunderstood. He couldn't believe that I could love him the same way."

"Was it true, what you said?" Ryo softly asked him. "Was it all a mistake?"

Seiji took his time before he pulled away. And when he did, the first thing Ryo saw was the smile on his face - a kind smile. Seiji shook his head.

"Love is never a mistake," he answered. "No matter what changes."

Seiji said something else. But Ryo could barely hear. He soon came to the realization that something was going on, something was distorting everything in that place.

He got to his feet. Seiji got to his feet, too, and stopped talking, and simply smiled at him. Ryo tried to reach out, but Seiji was too far away.

And getting farther. Something was pulling him out of there, and its speed only grew the more he struggled against it.

 _No,_  Ryo thought,  _NO_ .

But it was too late. The general had turned around and started walking toward his fate. And the last thing Ryo saw, before the darkness took him again, was the portal of light closing around his friend.

 

 

  
He slipped in and out of consciousness. Vaguely he felt that he was being lifted to his feet, laboriously, by someone who didn't seem strong enough to do it.

He felt parts of his body strike ground or wall a few times... it should've woken him, but he somehow couldn't keep his eyes open. Neither could he process the pain that should've come with each moment of impact.

Why does there have to be, this person muttered, so much life in you. But Ryo wasn't sure that was what he heard. The person was saying other things, but they sounded garbled, lost in transit.

The person's face was so close to his. Ryo reached up, hoping he could at least recognize that face by touch. But the face was turned away, and his hand lost its strength and refused to be moved again.

Ryo wanted to wake up. He was sure this person was trying to help him, and he was sure it was for a good reason - maybe he was dying, and maybe they were both in danger - so he had to get up. He had to stay on his feet.

But the more he struggled, the more he lost the fight. It was a familiar sensation, being dragged under.

 

 

  
Ryo woke up in a cozy bed that he didn't recognize, naked underneath warm blankets. His clothes were neatly folded in a seat near the bed. An IV drip was attached to his wrist.

Early morning sunlight streamed into the window. He still felt weak. For a moment he contemplated staying in bed, but he never really took well to waking up in strange places. He tore the drip from his arm and dragged himself to his feet, put on his clothes and braced himself to confront whatever he would find after opening the door.

Outside the door was a middle-aged couple he didn't know, having breakfast. They stared at him, and he stared back. Eventually the woman muttered "Good morning," and as per impulse, he returned the greeting.

"Where am I?" he asked. He tried taking another step forward but his knees buckled, and he held on to the doorframe for support. The man rushed to his side to help him to an empty seat at the breakfast table.

He was told where he was, and introductions were made. This couple had taken care of him while he had been unconscious for an entire day.

He was brought to this place unconscious close to dawn the other day, Ryo was told, by a young man who said he was his friend: a tall, thin young man with haunted blue eyes and short hair. The young man had had medical supplies with him - which wasn't at all strange because they knew him to be a doctor - and had seen to Ryo's emergency care.

At around noontime, he left his car in the couple's care, for giving to Ryo when he woke up. He also left a few instructions for taking care of Ryo, but assured them both that he was going to be all right soon.

They first met the young man, the couple relayed, when his old car crashed not too far from their home. The wounded and shaken youth had begged the couple for shelter, saying he couldn't afford to go to a hospital because he was being pursued and his life was in danger. But he needed to be home as soon as he could, because the people he cared about were in danger, too.

(So he  _did_  have an accident, Ryo realized. He hadn't been lying about that.)

They trusted him and sheltered him during the few hours that he needed to patch himself up. He enlisted the husband's help to drag his wrecked car to their garage, so he could cannibalize it for parts that he said he needed for his work.

He was very grateful for their help, and he was liberal with showing it. Now and then he came back for the parts, sometimes with gifts for the couple, always ready to give medical advice and help if he was asked for it.

All he ever really asked for was their silence.

They felt he was a good sort, and had no reason to suspect him, even if he never really told them anything about himself, not even his name. They felt he had a good reason for his unusual actions. At the very least, they felt that he must've cared deeply indeed about the people he was doing his secret "work" for.

Was Ryo hungry? There was food for one more person. Ryo realized just then that he could eat a horse.

The couple was wary of him, to be sure, but they cared for him the best he could, and sent him on his way with good wishes. More than anything, that gave Ryo the strength to move forward with his day. 

He'd had a dream, a long and sad dream, but one he could no longer remember. He needed all the help he could get to break loose from that dream... and help came in the reminder that there were still people in the world who could be kind even to strangers.

 

 

  
The last thing he remembered before waking up in the couple's house was being inside the cave Touma had left him in.

So the first thing he did was return to that cave.

When he got to the cave, he found it empty. There were no crates, no bits of metal and wire, no steel monstrosity resting at the center - nothing.

The recesses that had been carved and burned into the cave floor and the rock walls by the presence of the machine were still there, impossible to erase, so that someone who would bother might at least be able to piece together that  _something_  had been here, something large and manmade and functional...

But there was hardly any light in the cave. And given the distance of the cave to civilization, it wasn't likely that anyone would travel all the way there just to snoop. Anyone could just say the strange marks were made by smugglers. Or kidnappers. Or pirates.

Touma's doing, Ryo knew... and yet he was amazed at how quickly he was able to accomplish cleanup, if he was working alone. And he always did.

There was nothing in there for Touma to return to, so Ryo didn't see the point in staying. He had to go back to Tokyo. With any luck, some answers were waiting for him there.

 

 

  
His first stop in Tokyo was home - which was, at the time, Touma and Seiji's apartment.

No one was there.

Had they taken off without telling him...? There were no notes, no messages, but all their things were still in place - all their clothes and food and medicine. Seiji's shoes for going out were still on the rack by the door.

His next stop was the hospital Shin was staying in.

He caught them just in time - Shin was getting ready to be discharged. Shuu was the only other person in the room as Shin was putting on his freshly-pressed shirt and coat, and as Ryo walked in.

Shin was the very picture of perfect health. His eyes glittered with life. When his two friends saw Ryo, they didn't seem alarmed - only surprised. Clearly, they still had no idea what had been happening outside the hospital.

"You're alone? Where's Touma?" Shuu demanded.

Ryo asked why he would think he and Touma were together. He had hoped he would find Touma and Seiji here, visiting Shin.

"He said he was going off to find you," Shin started to say, but he trailed off. He and Shuu looked at each other, worry and sadness suddenly evident.

"Ryo," Shin gently began again, "you didn't know...?"

Ryo looked from Shin to Shuu, and back. Their faces betrayed that he should be prepared for the worst kind of news.

After a long pause that weighed heavily on them all, Shuu took a seat, and prompted his friends do to the same.

Shin was the one who proceeded to explain: the two of them had been hoping Ryo could clue them in on Touma's whereabouts. Touma had not been to see them since he visited Shin at the hospital the other night.

That night, it was Shuu's turn to watch over Shin. At around 7:30 PM, Shin began to stir. His vital signs quickly rose to stable levels, and Shuu nearly tripped over the wires and tubes in a mad rush to call the nurses and doctors in.

Soon it was evident that Shin was going to be fine. He was still weak at the onset, but he was finally responding to medications. It was as if nothing had happened. After two days of near-death, he was speaking, breathing and moving normally.

He was asked to stay another whole day "for observation" not for his sake, but for his puzzled doctors'.

Close to midnight, Touma came. It was long past visiting hours, but he talked his way past the guards and tricked everyone in his way into believing he was a visiting doctor attending to a medical emergency. That way he was able to stride into Shin's private room unhindered.

By that time, Shin was well enough to walk around. Shuu was expecting Touma would be surprised, but surprise was the last thing Touma's face registered. He may have feigned confidence to get there, but once there, the farce disintegrated. He looked breathless, lost, shattered.

Touma wouldn't say a word. Shuu came up to him and shook him by the shoulders, but he only looked back at Shuu blankly, without answering any of his questions.

Shin walked up to Touma, wrapped his arms around him.

And Touma started to cry.

He cried, Shuu related, for what seemed like hours. He babbled and yelled and wept in Shin's arms. It was a complete breakdown. He said a lot of things, not all of which made sense, but what he repeated the most was he was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry.

It was all that Shin and Shuu could do to keep the orderlies from throwing him out, or coming at him with a sedative... and Shin wasn't letting go, not until he had quieted down.

It was definitely not how they expected a friend to react to good news. So they knew something was wrong. Had something happened to Ryo? Or to Seiji? But it wasn't until Touma had calmed down, a long time later, that he was able to answer.

He had come to tell them that Seiji was dead.

What happened? Ryo asked.

We couldn't tell, Shin replied. Touma left as soon as he could calm down enough. He said... you've done something stupid again. Something he hadn't planned, and it messed everything up. He said he just had to find you...

And then he was going to be "out of everyone's hair," Shuu finished for him. 

Did he... was he... angry? With me?

I don't know, man. It was hard to tell. He was being really weird. I said I wanted to go with him, help him find you and stuff, but he got mad and said there was no way I could help. So I got angry, too, but if he didn't want me around, I didn't want to be around him either.

In the morning, we got to talk to Seiji's older sister, Yayoi-san. She was the one who identified the body at the morgue.

Yayoi-san said Touma found the body, and the cause of death was heart failure...

She said Seiji's body was found in the balcony, and it was raining... but it was also possible that his heart had stopped before the cold could set in.

The family's said no autopsy, so maybe we'll never know.

I don't understand, Ryo said softly. His heart...? But his heart was  _fine._  I checked it before I left to... to take care of stuff at home. We ran all the tests, he could've run a marathon with that heart!

But how long were you gone? Shuu asked. It's possible that his health changed while you were away, right?

If he was with Touma, Ryo argued, there couldn't have been a risk. Touma would've stopped him from doing anything to hurt himself.

Except it would seem that Touma was asleep when it happened.

Asleep? What are you - that's not possible!

One of the things Touma said that night was, he shouldn't have fallen asleep. He was blaming himself. He said if he'd only woken up on time, everything would've been all right.

How could he have... fallen asleep. He wouldn't have. How...

The last time we spoke, he seemed so exhausted. Like he'd sleep for ages as soon as he felt at ease for even a second. He wasn't being kind enough to himself, and maybe Seiji knew. Maybe that was why Seiji let him sleep.

There were no wounds, no drugs, nothing found on Seiji. He was in perfect health, but his heart just... stopped. We kept telling Touma he shouldn't blame himself. But he wouldn't listen. 

And we were hoping he was with you.

No... I... I don't, I'm sorry. I, if only I'd -

Stop it, Ryo, it's not your fault, either! God, I'm sick of all this selfish crap, all right?! We were already expecting it to happen, just not like this.

Shuu's right, Ryo. Seiji... wouldn't want you or Touma to feel this way.

It doesn't help anyone now. And it's sure going to annoy the hell out of Seiji if he were here. He was our friend, too, remember? We  _know._

 

 _  
_

Touma wasn't at the Date family's ancestral home for the wake. Neither was he at the funeral. He wasn't there to see Seiji go home, into the open arms of his family and everything familiar and beloved to him.

The Date family asked for him, knowing as they did how close Seiji had been to all his childhood friends. Only Yayoi did not ask. Neither was she asked what she knew, and so she did not need to answer. They were all somehow prepared for Seiji's passing: the last time he called already struck them as a sort of goodbye.

During their leave-taking, Yayoi said to Ryo: "Tell him we are grateful." Ryo nodded.

After the funeral, Ryo had to go back to the apartment. Ryo wasn't sure how he could stay in such a fancy place, seeing as how he was penniless and in desperate need of work, so it was high time to pack up.

"Do you  _want_  to go?" Shuu had asked him. Ryo had answered readily, "No. Touma'll have to come home sometime. I want to make sure he's all right, when he does."

Shuu wasn't so sure Touma was coming back. He wasn't up front about what he thought could have happened to Touma. "He'll probably want to be alone," he muttered. "You know how he is..."

But just in case, he told Ryo - just in case, I'll take care of a year's rent. Stay in that apartment, if that's what you feel you should do. Maybe you're right, and maybe Touma will need someone to come home to.

There was no way to refuse Shuu's help once he had made up his mind that he was giving it, but it turned out that the help was necessary. Touma had kept his word about transferring his assets to Ryo, which meant the lease of the apartment and the contents of his personal bank account - which, predictably, had next to nothing in it. The account was closed a long time ago, so it was not even a good way to track Touma down.

Ryo attempted to keep a close eye on the news, looking for an event that would have Touma's trademark on it, any sign that he had not been able to keep from helping someone out (or at least showing off his extraordinary smarts) in a big way.

...But he was bombarded instead with news of Touma's disappearance. What had happened to this prodigy, the young man who was once hailed as the hope of Japanese astrophysics? The last that anyone knew was that he was working for a major pharmaceutical company - it would seem that he had left this company, and no one had heard of him since.

Touma's mother, an award-winning international journalist, made several appearances on television calling for any information on her only child's whereabouts. She knew her own son better than anyone, Ryo knew, but let him live his life as he chose, believing he would always know better. She conducted her own investigations. That she was distressed and helpless now meant there was truly cause for concern.

 _Touma could've sacrificed the world to save Seiji, but he didn't. He chose instead to sacrifice himself._

Ryo didn't know who said those words, and why they stuck with him. He didn't know what they meant. He only knew they comforted him, though he felt perhaps they shouldn't.

It seemed for a while that everyone was looking for Touma. Shin and Shuu took time off to travel, hoping they would find some indication that Touma had been to any of the places they knew. They had even visited the old Yagyuu mansion, and recruited the help of Nasuti in trying to track Touma down.

At times they thought they found clues... but those clues, if that was what they were, led nowhere. Touma could vanish without a trace if he wanted to. And as time drew on, people grew tired of searching and gradually went back to their old routines. He became just another lost thing.

Ryo had also tried contacting the couple that he and Touma had been acquainted with - no luck. They'd seen his face (and learned of his name) in the news, but they had not heard from Touma at all.

It seemed that all that was left for Ryo to do was wait.

"Are you all right with this?" Shin had asked. "With waiting?"

Shin was getting ready to go back to his work in Aomori. His research break was over and it was time to leave Tokyo. He visited Ryo at Touma's apartment before he left.

He was taking his car back, of course. It wasn't as if Ryo still needed it; he preferred commuting anyway.

While Shin stayed in the city, he and Ryo spent time together, talking about many things... still they weren't able to talk about everything. Ryo couldn't bring himself to ask, for example, if Shin knew about Seiji's feelings while they were growing up. Shin would say something soothing and honest, and Ryo wasn't ready.

"Nothing wrong with it, I've just never known you to be very patient," Shin pointed out with a wry smile.

Ryo shrugged. "I guess it's a virtue I have to learn."

Shin was quiet for a while, turning his wine glass in his hand. Then, "He may never come back," he solemnly said.

They knew, they both did, that there was a chance Touma had taken his own life, but neither of them opened it up for discussion.

Ryo had never told Shin about Touma's machine, about what it did to him. It was a confession that wasn't his to make. And yet, somehow, he sensed that Shin already knew. And he had forgiven Touma long ago.

And he had never told Shin that there was no other option. How Ryo didn't see himself going back to his old life while there was a chance Touma was out there all alone. How he still blamed himself, in some way, for everything that had happened. How his hands missed the feeling of Touma's skin. But he never had to.

"He knows I'll be here." Ryo smiled wanly. "So he might."

Shin studied his younger friend silently, leaving objections unsaid. In the end he just nodded.

 

 

  
The apartment was large, and lonely. There were too many memories. On quiet nights Ryo couldn't help but recall the times they spent together, laughing at inane things, sitting under the stars and sharing memories, talking about everything, or not talking at all.

He would think that he heard Seiji or Touma's voice call his name - and that would make him stop whatever he was doing. 

Sometimes, Mrs. Nakajima knocked, and Ryo let her in. And sometimes, if he was in need of human company, he would head over to Mrs. Nakajima's, where - in a grumbling, pretend-resentful way - he was always welcome.

Mrs. Nakajima's gossip wasn't always to Ryo's liking, but it passed the time. And she certainly needed help around the house. Sometimes she was too proud to ask for help changing light bulbs, carrying laundry baskets, or tilting heavy furniture back so she could vacuum underneath, and it was a good thing Ryo was around to notice.

It was as if Ryo was discovering the other tenants of the apartment for the first time, though he'd lived there for several months and had greeted almost all of them at one point or another, as he passed them by in the hall or in the lobby at the ground floor. At one point he realized they made good models for photographs, which provided its own share of amusement. Mrs. Nakajima herself was a frequent subject.

Daily life photography was proving surprisingly lucrative. It put him in touch with his old contacts, and new contacts as well, who opened doors for him. He was told early on that he had an "eye" for finding the beauty in everyday things: this "eye" got him places, allowed him to search for Touma when it seemed everyone else had already stopped searching.

The world was vast. There were so many people to talk to, and no one to confide in.

So, at night, Ryo stepped out into the balcony, and looked up.

 

 

  
Touma had said once that he liked to stay in high places, because if you were close enough to the sky, you could hear the stars, and the stars had stories.

Ryo often wondered about them, staying so far out of reach, and at the same time watching over everything. Wasn't it lonely out there, watching as the little creatures of the little world below loved, lost, died and were born?

But if all the stars were living things, it was impossible to feel alone.

When he was little, his father told him that when people died, they became stars. And you could talk to them just like you could to regular people, because they were still human souls, only taking on another body after they were done.

He closed his eyes and felt the presence of these souls over and all around him. He spoke to them because he knew they could hear:  _Look after him. Keep him safe._  If he was out there. If he was all right.

Help him remember how to listen.

 

 

 

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So it ends. My heartfelt thanks to everyone who read this far! It's been a long year and a half, and writing for this story provided me much-needed distraction.

  


There was originally an epilogue here, but I took it down. After rereading it, and after receiving feedback in public and in private, I realized it still needed a lot of work. I suppose I just wanted to finish something in time for Christmas, and it came out subpar.

  


I apologize for everyone who had to suffer that. Sometime in the future, I may decide to revise this fic, but probably not anytime soon. I'm not sure the epilogue is ever going back up, either. For now I hope the conclusion of the story, open-ended as it is, provides a decent enough tie-up to everything.

  


I'm truly grateful to everyone who left feedback, positive or otherwise. It's humbling to know that other people have become invested in this story as well, and I do apologize to everyone I may have disappointed with my crappy writing. As said in the fic: It's not my story, it's just my words.

  


Finally: Happy Holidays! I hope that everyone else is also looking forward to the coming new year :)


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